






I LIBRARY OF CONGRFSS. t 

♦ .Wss^ 

# # 

JUNITED STATES OF AAIERICA.| 





4 



« 



> 



K 



> 


^ . • 



r 


I 




* 


> 


t 



r 


/ 


t 


9 



U 


% 


J 


t, 


r • 

• * 


4 


e 


' 


■ < •/ • • 


V / • 

/•» 

■.-' . '• 

9 

«,k 

■ 

V. 

► * ' * s 

0 

•k 

• ' '* • ** 

• 



- ’ 7 ■• 





y • * 

» 



» 


« 


: 


I . . 




4 





* i 


• A 





t 



r 


«> 




i 


4 


9 


^ ♦ 


i 


\ 



t 


> 




j V 




1 


A 







» 


•t- 


r 



« 




4 






** 




/ 


L 






4 






J 

9 



» 


n S 









i~ 





4 / 


✓ 



i 


» 



« 


I 

•. -r 


^ • s 

4 •* 

• » • ♦r 






. I 

4 


X 


I 


» 


\ 


4- 




* 





J 


I 




« 


.1 


> 




»' 

t . 





, J 


> > 

4 4 


« 4 


• f 


A 


♦ • , 4 . 


t 




> - 


. •> 




; 

" • V * 


:.fl< 









4 


> 






• • 

. ‘X • 


* 


p 



< *, 







J 


1 


( 


>• • 




* 


w 






• H 

' V 






- V. 


••w*. 


• *. 

k ^ ‘ 

S K • 
-f 




4' 




I 












• ft 




% 


ft 




M- 


I * 



1 « 


I 




• K 


f 

ft 













I 


f 

I 




\ 


* 


« 


» 

« 


*« 





••• 


i 

% 






, i 



« 






f 





V 


% 


ft 





« 


I 


I 




< » 



f 


« 

ft 


4 

1 




t 


4 


ft 


I 

ft 






f 


\ 


4 








ft 


I 


ft 


« 


ft 

• * » 




ft 



ft 


1 


4 




4 


p 


4 


$ 



ft 


r 


ft 



r 




4 

4 


ft 


'i. 


« 


- 







4 


4 









t 





• % 


• « 4 * 



0 

\ 


I 



• ■ 


1 


4 




4 




t 

i 


*•* 


t 



♦ 







j 





I 





%g> 



« 


* • 


I 


I 


4 


I ' 


* 


I 




•• 


r 


« 


4 


I 


i 


I I 






I 




P 





/ 


ii :. 




t 


• 1 


0 


t . 


t 

I 

( 



I 


V 


$ 


$ t 


9 


I 


t 




4i?'r 



% V 




« 




4 


t - 

I . 




J t 1 




i 





r 






\ 

1 • 



« 






4 





nr 


( *' 





1 




I 


'I j 


« 


t 


f 


I 


# 


I 


«» 

I 





I 




I 






r 


* 




I 


( 







) 


f 





« 




T 

i 





^ ♦ 

4 


1 









' 7 * 

- 'fM 
'?.' + 

* V I I 


1 




V 


I 


» 


1 


• « 






» > f 

A 

• * *1 > 

T 

I 





t 






»■ ' 


f 



« 







I 




♦ f 

0 


( 


> 


f 


1 


I • 


4 


I 






I 


V 


K 





I 


I 


t 


t 


r 




A 


t 








i 


♦ 



i 




I 

i 




r 


( 


II 



* 

r 




. I 


4 


4 


1 


4 


I 


• k 


} c 

. / 


•I 


s 



I 


I' 

u 






t 


« 





f 


» 




9 


t 






V 


t H 


I 

« 


t 


■I 




r 

t 


t 


<# 

<• 


IT 

1 1 


i . 
» 

» 


* 


» 


« 



.# 






» 

f 



« 


* 



I 


«• 



r 


/ 


♦ £ 



» 



. 1 


« • 

4 

« 


« 





. «kl 


I 


> 





f 










t 








I 

» 


•T *-., 
' 



» 

f 


•h . 




* 

* 


t 


t 







3W» 

« 




/ 



i 




I 




« 




ft 

4 


I 


V , ^ 




«♦ •- 
f • 


<■ 




t 




» 


# 





« > 


I 


4 


•r 






-1 



riie Departure 




V 


/ 


1620 - 1623 . 


PLYMOUTH, NEW ENGLAND. 

L 


“ These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having 
seen them afar o£f, and were persuaded by them, and embraced them, and 
confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.” — H eb. 11 ; 13. 

\ 



BOSTON: 

H ENRY HOYT, 

NO. 9 COJiNHILL. 



V 



Entered aeeording to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by 
HENUT HOYT, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



TO 


WHOSE PILGRIM-BARK LONG SINCE STRANDED ON THE SHORES OF THE 

ETERNAL CITT, AND 

RCyiyt©tE6©irp' 

STILL A STRANGER AND A SOJOURNER HERE BELOW, 

THIS STORY OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS 
IS DEDICATED BY THEIR 

DAUGHTER, 








V f • / fy 










rv 




i ^ '.s;f •* 




w\ 


, r/'i 


'jirm mwjf 


I 'r 




^ « 


. * 404 ^ < 







. •’•XT . • 

\ • ^ / T 



S- ^ ' J' 


^.!r '.^‘ii:f*‘ 




1 4 



A 




4 V 4 | 


« » •• 


4 

i 

M 



4 « 


9 


.ri 

• ♦ 

, “ > 


-s * 




4 • 


» 







r •*•'• 






! >•'.’ .V’N 





* 




I • 0 - > 


■ • * * * - 

• ' 0 "U • 

■v 


■r 


# I 1 , 1 1 ^ ■ / »■ f 

• . w I » » *• ' ^ ^ * '‘* »• 


V 


r^T*: ■■ ■• 




T/# 


» f-’j f* r 

..• ■'•V * *f I» k , . j * 





■•f V 


B^: 


-A' 


t • 

A ‘ t ' 




f ' - 


'4 


I A 

« 

«• 

, / 


* . 









FAITH WHITE’S LETTER BOOK. 


CHAPTER I. 


s 



Bird^s Nest, Leyden, Holland, 

Wednesday, March 29, 1620. 

Y Unknown Friend : — I have always 
heard it was such a nice way of re- 
cording your life, with its feelings 
and actions, to keep a diary. But it seems 
selfish to me, to keep all your experience and 
good thoughts to yourself alone. 

As is quite customary now, father and mother 
each have a letter book, in which they copy all 
the letters they write and receive ; but it seems 
so much better to write all these things to a 
friend, that, though I have no idea who you are, 
or under what part of God’s overarching blue 
sky you dwell, I am going to write to you, in- 
stead of keeping a diary. 


FAITS WHITENS EETTEIt BOOK. 


I believe, earnestly, that somewhere in this 
wide world, is one companion, to whom we could 
tell freely all the joys that gladden, and the sor- 
rows that befall us who are set for these latter 
times, and that one friend would share them with 
us. I know Jesus, Saviour, the best counselor, 
and you know Him, too, else you could not be 
this imaginary friend of mine ; but to-night, I, 
just fifteen, am hungering and thirsting for an 
earthly friend, and it shall be you, my only corre- 
spondent, — for I have never written any letters 
except a few notes in play to Patience Brew- 
ster, — and you, not yet named, shall know all 
of my life past and to come. 

I suppose I must introduce myself to you as 
“ Little Faith White,” — that is what everybody 
calls me, — and the eldest daughter of a family 
of four. Father says, “ So much is expected and 
will be required by our All-Father of an eldest 
daughter.” 

I have told you that I am fifteen, this is my 
birthday, and here I live in a darling cottage 
home, and am writing now in my room, which I 
call “ Bird’s Nest,” though as I am such a chat- 
ter-box, brother Paul often says, to tease me, that 
it is Magpie’s Nest.” This dear home is on a 
6 


FAITH WHITENS ZETTEE BOOK. 


quiet street in grand old Leyden in Holland ; and 
so long have we been here, that I have only a 
faint memory of any other, — a sort of a vague 
dream of a thatch-roofed cottage, on a hillside 
sloping down to the smooth-flowing river Idle in 
Austerfield, a little hamlet on the border of Not- 
tinghamshire in dear old England, of which 
grandfather still talks longingly. 

I scarcely know if I recollect, or if having 
heard the story so often, I seem to remember our 
flight from there ; of secretly whispered good- 
byes ; of money paid to greedy sailors ; of going 
stealthily on board a ship at night, and even from 
the security of my father’s arms, gazing with 
fearful eyes on the dark waste of waters ; of 
hard-hearted, profane officers — those dreadful 
magistrates — coming on board and making us 
prisoners, rudely searching all parties for money, 
and often seizing all the valuables they could 
find, leading us to prison with scoffs and jeers. 

That all seems like a frightful dream, but I dis- 
tinctly remember the next attempt made in the 
succeeding spring, twelve years ago. Our poor 
fathers, some but just released from prison, were 
already in the ship ; but the bark in which we 
were, was fast in the mud, and before the boat 
7 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEB, BOOK. 


from the ship could take another load, a party of 
horsemen, armed with guns and billets, bore 
down upon us. The frightened Dutch Captain, 
fearing punishment, swore that he would not 
wait, and set sail, leaving the unprotected women 
and children. I can never forget the screams of 
the terrified children, as the disappointed and 
furious cavalry approached us, nor my desolate 
yoxing mother’s tears, nor her prayers to God for 
protection, as with no homes to go to, we wan- 
dered up and down the dreary moors, driven here 
and there by cruel constables, — cold, hungry 
and disheartened. 

Nor can I ever forget her incessant pleadings 
that the lives of our friends might be spared, for 
a dreadful storm arose that lasted fourteen days, 
and drove the ship far out of her course on the 
coast of Norway. Child that I was^ I then 
learned to pray and believe in prevailing prayer, 
for after much suffering and many trials, that 
are painful to think of, with loss of everything 
but life, we were finally permitted to go to Am- 
sterdam, and rejoin our friends, who, at length, 
like ourselves, having passed through almost the 
bitterness of death, had reached there safely. 

I remember but little of this city except its 
8 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEB BOOK. 


numerous islands, and bridges crossing the 
canals ; the immense shipping in the port, with 
its forests of masts, and the beautiful Cathedral 
that filled me with wonder and delight at the 
magnificence of the building, and echoing strains 
of its great organ. I used to think the music of 
heaven could not be grander or sweeter. 

I have one more vivid remembrance of my 
Amsterdam life. It is of a venerable old Deacon- 
ess in our church there, who used to sit, in time 
of service, with a birchen rod in her hand, and 
woe to the luckless urchins that disturbed the 
congregation. Good old mother in Israel that 
she was, I confess that I should have more regard 
and veneration, and less curious awe for her 
memory, if I had not so often sat in the meeting- 
house, in mortal fear lest I should fall asleep, 
and making some disturbance, be wakened by an 
application of that which Solomon enjoins on 
parents not to spare ; or from some inadvertent 
smile, look, or act, provoke it yet more freely. 

After one year in Amsterdam we came to 
Leyden, this fair and beautiful city, so beloved, 
where our church, long persecuted, has found an 
ark of rest. It is a great city, next in size to 
Amsterdam, the largest in the Province, abound- 


FAITM WHITE>S JLETTER BOOK. 


ing in frequent green squares, and shut in by 
strong high walls. It has an old University full 
of rare curiosities, and two Cathedrals, St. 
Peter’s and St. Pancras, — immense masses of 
stone, in whose winding aisles and porticoes one 
can wander and lose himself entirely. 

And, too, there is the picturesque Stadhues^ 
or Town Hall, on the wall of which are wonder- 
ful paintings, that I never tire of looking at, and 
dreaming over, as I sit half lulled to sleep by the 
whirr and buzz of the wheels and looms in the 
myriads of busy manufactories, where so many 
of our fathers have found employment weaving 
ribbons, silks and cloths. 

My dear mother died two years after we came 
here, leaving us little baby Mary to love, for her 
sake — and a precious child she is. At her 
request, mother was carried to our old home in 
Nottinghamshire, and buried in the little church- 
yard, near the old gray stone church in which' 
she was baptized and married. I love to think 
of her as sleeping there under the white daises, 
her favorite flower, and by her side a tiny, grass- 
grown grave where rests all that was mortal of a 
baby sister, Hope by name. One year after, my 
father — it seems to me everybody must know 
10 


FAJCTir WSITE^S ZETTEIt BOOK. 


that best and dearest father of mine - — brought a 
new mother to our dreary home. After he told 
us he thought of doing so, brother Paul,- — his 
name is Resolved, but I always call him by his 
other name, — who is three years younger than I, 
threw his arms around my neck and sobbed in 
angry grief. “ I shall never, never love her as I 
do you, sister Faith,” he said, ‘‘ and I wish she 
would stay away, and let you take care of me and 
Mary. I will be good to you, but I shall not 
mind a word she says.” 

But I told him she must love our dear father 
very much to be willing to take the care and 
trouble of three little children, and that our 
house would be so much more pleasant with a 
mother to love in it. She came and we welcomed 
her, and indeed I knew no difference between her 
and my sainted mother, except that, as she is but 
ten years older than I, she seems to me both as 
an elder sister and mother, who cares too much 
for me to let any wrong go unreproved, yet chides 
my waywardness so tenderly that I love her more 
because of the reproof. 

And this is Faith White’s life — her ‘‘ young 
life,” as father called it at family worship, this 
morning, tliough it seems lojig to me ; and then 

11 


FAITH WHITENS EETTEB BOOK. 


he begged the All-Father to be such a Shepherd 
to His lamb, that when my birthdays were over, 
and I entered on the first of my eternal years, it 
might be said to me, Many daughters have done 
virtuously, but thou excellest them all.” This is 
my verse in the Bible. I suppose you know how 
to find anybody’s verse, by looking in the last 
chapter of Proverbs, and taking the one that 
corresponds in number to the day of the month 
on which you were born. Mother says she 
thinks it a wrong and foolish superstition, but if 
it makes me try to win so Ifigh praise from such 
a source, it will do me good. 

And I did think, as father was pleading, with 
strong crying, for his ‘‘ first born,” and then and 
there I gave myself away again to Jesus in a new 
covenant, that thenceforth I would always be the 
best daughter, the most loving sister. But I am 
afraid I resolved in my own strength. I was 
then sure I never could again speak fretfully to 
David, or either of the other children. But I 
thought of David, particularly, for Mary is blind 
and feeble, and we all pet her. Besides, I sol- 
emnly promised my own mother, that dreary 
night she died, that I would always be good to 
Paul and Mary — both a sister and mother ; and 
12 


F^LITH WHITENS ZETTEB. BOOK. 


though I was but little more than six years old, 
I cannot forget it ; so if Paul is, sometimes, a 
great tease, I rarely get vexed with him. 

But David is the baby, a little^more that two 
years old, very heavy, and often very cross. I 
have to tend him a great deal, for mother is not 
strong, and I am sometimes impatient — 0, my 
dear friend, so very impatient with him ! Now 
I was quite in earnest about my good resolves, 
and all this morning when he cried so much, for 
mother had a headache and I took all the care of 
him, I was kind and patient. But when dinner 
time came, — did you ever notice that the dinner 
hour was the crossest part of the day, especially 
if you are getting it yourself ? — as I was very 
busy, I sat him down with ever so many things 
to amuse him, and Mary to talk to him. But 
while in the midst of making my birthday pud- 
ding, I saw him sailing my new Latin Testament, 
that Mr. Brewster had sent me, by Patience, for 
a present, or a tub of water, and laughing mer- 
rily to see it float. 

I do not dare to think how angry I was at poor 
David, or what I said to him ; and tears of shame 
and remorse come when I recall the quiver of 
his dimpled chin, and tlie grieved expression in 
13 


FAITH WHITENS TETTER BOOK. 


his blue eyes, as he ran and hid his curly head 
in mother’s lap, and sobbed aloud. Nor shall I 
soon forget the look in Mary’s sightless brown 
eyes, as she lifted them wonderingly, rebukingly 
towards me. 

I thought of Jesus, only looking at denying, 
swearing Peter, after all his loud praises of de- 
votion, and how it is said, “ And he went out, 
and wept bitterly.” I am sure I am penitent 
now, and I hope I have been forgiven, but if I 
could act so badly thus soon after my good reso- 
lutions, what can I hope for ? 

You see how much Faith White has to strive 
against ; will you still let her be your friend ? I 
am afraid that after this confession you will 
refuse my extended hand reaching out to clasp 
yours, for already I cannot persuade myself that 
you are not a real acquaintance of mine, whom I 
have always known and loved even as Patience 
Brewster, a choice friend, near my own age, that 
studies with me. • 

You will discover that I am egotistical, and 
fond of talking of myself, and my loved ones. 
You will find Faith unlike her name, and though 
fifteen years old to-day, a very thoughtless, vain- 
minded child, I fear, who forgets how quickly her 
14 


FAJTS WSZTIS^S IjFTTEM BOOK, 


life is passing, and how triflingly in little house- 
hold cares and imperfectly done duties. 

You will learn, "^too, that she is ignorant, know- 
ing somewhat of English studies, and a little of 
Latin, Dutch and French, just a beginner in the 
school of science, as she is in the school of 
Christ. 

She can ' sew well and embroider a little ; can 
cook so as to suit the taste of an easily pleased 
father; can knit rapidly — reading at the same 
time her fingers are busy with the needles — and 
spin flax very nicely, making such fine table- 
linen ; can nurse the sick, and, as father often 
flatteringly says to encourage her, “ Looketh well 
to the ways of her household.” If either the 
nineteenth, or twenty-seventh had been my verse, 
I might have verified it. 

0, if I could but make my life great, and good, 
and useful, so that when this little vapor has 
passed away my name might not die, but shine 
among the Marys’ and Dorcas’, with the pious 
Bertha or our Yirgin-Queen Elizabeth ! But 
often when I think despairingly that I am like 
the city of Zoar, concerning which poor, hurry- 
ing, frightened Lot said pleadingly, ‘‘ Is it not a 
little one?” I am comforted by reading that 

• 15 


FAITH WHITE’S LETTER ROOK. 

“ God hath chosen the foolish things of the 
world to confound the wise, and God hath chosen 
the weak things of the world* to confound the 
mighty so I am sure that He has some purpose 
for even so weak and foolish a thing as Faith 
White, though what I am to do for Him doth not 
yet appear. 

My grandfather, my own mother’s father, who 
is very old and silver-haired, and leans trem- 
blingly on his staff, says to me, when I am tired 
of doing such little things, “ Do your present 
duty, my child, as to God. Be faithful in the 
wee sma’ things ; ” and quotes a favorite hymn 
from Herbert. 


“ Teach me, my God and King, 

In all things Thee to see : 

And, what I do in anything 
To do it as for Thee. 

All may of Thee partake ; 

Nothing can be so mean, 

Which, with this tincture. For Thy Sake, 
Will not grow bright and clean. 

A servant with this clause 
Makes drudgery divine, 

Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws. 
Makes that, and the action fine. 

This is the famous stone. 

That turneth all to gold : 

For that which God doth touch and -own 
Cannot for less be told.” 


16 


FAITH WHITENS ZETTEE BOOK. 

Such a dear, good grandfather as mine is, 
with his snow-white locks, — his “ crown of 
glory,’’ — and loving heart, always happy in 
making others happy. May he long be spared to 
us. 

And now there is a chance to use his teaching, 
for David wants to be rocked to sleep ; he has 
forgiven me for my morning’s unkindness, as I 
hope God has, and desires me to tell him his 
favorite stories, how the Lord called Samuel, and 
about David and Goliath. I wish I could write 
it as he, pronounces it in his lisping, baby 
fashion — my precious little David. 

You know David, itself, means beloved, and a 
much-loved child he is ; how could I be so un- 
kind to him ? 


17 


CHAPTEEH. 


3i 





Bird's Nest, Tuesday, April 4. 

Y Cariad ; — That is your name ; 
grandfather says it is the Welsh 
for love or darling. I wonder if it 


is not derived from the Latin, earns, beloved. I 
am reading Latin now to Mr. Brewster — 
Patience and I together — and that is why I am 
so pedantic. f 

I do wish you knew Patience, though I expect 
you would love her more than myself, for she is 
not dull and prosy like me, thinking this hour. 
What shall I get for dinner ? the next. How shall 
I mend those great holes so as not to show the 
darns or patch ? or. What ought I to do first, so 
as quickest to get through with the housework 
and go to spinning ? and so on, daily, from one 
week’s end to the other. 

These little talks and anxious thoughts about 
18 


FAITS WHITENS JLFTTEM BOOK. 

bread and butter, scouring floors and washing 
dishes, although very needful, do not look attrac- 
tive on paper any more tlian they are in reality. 
But I am the eldest, she the youngest, and that 
is why her hands are always soft and white, and 
her curls smooth. And it may be that lier never 
having to think and worry about these ever-re- 
curring household cares, which I am glad to take 
from my feeble mother, is one reason why she is 
always amiable and gentle, overflowing with 
laughter, and brim-full of nonsense and harmless 
roguery ; coming in like a gleam of sunshine, 
sitting in her father’s lap, pulling his beard, 
pinching his cheek, and kissing where it hurt, 
like a child of four years old, while Mr. Brewster, 
generally so grave, enjoys it all and calls her his 
“ giddy kitten.” 

Only yesterday, as I sat knitting and reading 
in a rare, leisure half-hour between two meals, 
when David and Mary were sleeping, she came 
suddenly into the garden, and, calling me a 
“ mope and book-worm,” picked me up, book, 
knitting and all, whirled around with me, strug- 
gling, and before I could tell whether or not I 
was Cardinal Wolsey, ‘‘nipped by an untimely 
frost,” of whom I had been reading, I was 
19 


TAITH WHITE’S LETTER BOOK, 


sitting in my seat, an inverted copy of Shakes- 
peare before me, two of my needles gone, and the 
white kitten, ever ready to seize an opportunity, 
playing with my ball of yarn, while Patience 
looked gravely on as if nothing had happened. 

Right before us, enjoying the April sunshine, 
old gray Tabby lay sleeping on the grass ; and at 
that moment her little kitten, bereft of the ball, 
and seeking other mischief came frolicking up, 
as full of fun as if never even a kitten-care had 
shaded her life, and rudely disturbed her mother’s 
slumber. Tabby winked, and blinked, trying 
not to notice it, but being roused again and again 
by the inexorable kitten, with true cat-like pa- 
tience she retreated a little space to a more 
secluded spot, and stretched herself for another 
nap, from which being remorselessly wakened, she 
looked up so reproachfully and vexedly at her 
kitten, that it ought to have moved that pitiless, 
jolly head. 

“ There ! do you see that ? ” said Patience. 
‘‘ You are just like old Tabby, very useful, but 
solemn and sleepy, when you have finished your 
daily toil of baking and mending — your way of 
catching mice. I come along like that iinpitying 


FAITS WHITE’S EETTEB BOOK. 


kitten, rout you out, and worry and vex you, as 
she does her forgiving mother.” 

Then the old cat, seeing she might as well 
submit to iler fate with the best grace possible, 
rose, stretched, and shook herself, then entered 
'awkwardly into the spirit of the occasion. 
Crouching low down, she would spring heavily at 
the agile kitten that escaped her every time; 
then running after her, she would climb a tree, 
and going out on too slender a bough fall to the 
ground ; all so well meant, and kindly disposed 
to enter and seem to enjoy the sport, yet so ridic- 
ulous and awkward, that we both sat watching 
and laughing till the tears came. 

Nevertheless I could not help thinking how 
much I was like that same Tabby, who is a very 
useful, if not jovial member of our family, and I 
believe I now find it as hard to play kitten as she 
did ; while it seems to belong to Patience with 
her light blue eyes, and flossy, yellow curls, as 
soft and smooth as the silk she embroiders with, 
her supple joints and winning ways, to dance 
gaily through life. 

Coming back to the inevitable Ego, to tell the 
truth, — all of which I must tell you as far as I 
can, — I don’t think I myself am like anybody 
21 


FAITH WHITENS IFTTEJt BOOK. 


else. I try to ’be frank and candid, but all these 
more earnest thoughts and feelings lie so deep 
down in my soul, that I cannot express them. 
And I fear that when I meet you, my Cariad, 
as I sometime expect to, I shall stand before you 
dumb — in a throbbing agony of delight, but* 
speechless. Do you think you will know me by 
sight if I say never a word of welcome to you ? 


22 


CHAPTER III. 


# 

But 

before 


Bird^s Nest, Monday, April 10. 
NLY a few days have passed since I wrote 
you before, but already Faith White’s 
life seems to be taking a new turn. 

I must tell you somewhat of our past, 
you can fully understand how we are 
situated, and why it is proposed to take such a 
step, as to turn our. backs again on our dear-loved 
home, doing like those first disciples, “ leave all 
and follow Jesus.” 

Faith White is a Puritan maiden, whose proud- 
est inheritance, better than landed wealth or a 
patent of nobility, is that her ancestors have suf- 
fered for the sake of “ the word of God, and the 
testimony of Jesus Christ.” Because they wished 
to worship God in their own way, with a free 
conscience, coming out from the world and being 
separate from it ; for more than fifty years have 
23 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


the Puritans been persecuted, hidden away in 
swamps, hunted by dragoons, fallen upon by re- 
lentless persecutors while holding secret meet- 
ings ; and thrown into prisons, some of them 
continuing faithful even unto death, •deemed 
worthy to be made partakers of Christ’s suffer- 
ings, by the axe, on the scaffold, and at the stake, 
— that is our sad history. 

But God has kept His own according to pro- 
mise, and finally after a great deal of trial, a little 
of which I have told you, a number came to Am- 
sterdam, then here. But we are not satisfied. 

It is not because we wander from house to 
house, having no settled home of our own possess- 
ing, for, as Mr. Bradford, one of our best men, 
has said, ‘‘We know that we are Pilgrims, and 
look not so much on these things, but lift our 
eyes to Heaven, our dearest country, and quiet 
our spirits.” 

It is not that we are daily growing poorer, 
though as has again and again been urged, in 
spite of our labor and persevering industry, in 
new and unusual employments, “ poverty is com- 
ing on us like an armed man.” 

But our young men, the sons and brothers of 
our families, having no occupation that is profita- 
24 


FAITH WHITENS IE T TEE BOOK. 


ble, leave us for the army, a poor place for a 
Christian, at least, in time of peace, though grati- 
fying to ambition. And, too, these good natured 
Hollanders are not godly people ; they still cling 
to old creeds and superstitions ; they are rude and 
riotous, profaning the Sabbath; they are of the 
earth, earthy. 

Did you ever read in Josephus, how in the 
temple, before its destruction, the priests heard a 
rushing wind and a loud voice echoing through 
all the passages, Let us depart! Let us depart!” 

So the wise fathers, eager to follow Christ’s lead, 
tossed hither and thither by the tide of persecu- 
tion and circumstance, have heard yet again a 
voice, saying, “ Arise ye and depart, for this is 
not your rest,” and have already decided to cross 
the wide, wide ocean, far toward the setting sun, 
to a new and unknown country, to America, 
peopled by a wild, barbarous race of red men. 

Emigration, some where,, has been talked of for 
years, — Yirginia, the West Indies, and Guiana 
have all been thought of, — but hitherto, so many 
obstacles have been in the way, that it never 
seemed likely to happen in my life ; and father 
had not thought of going, at least until very 
lately, so when it was first told me, it was a 
25 


FAITH WHITENS FETTER BOOK. 


wholly new idea, and I thought my heart would 
break. 

But dear, good grandfather, who grows feebler 
and lovelier every day, smoothed my tangled 
curls as 1 sat quietly crying with David in my 
arms, and said, “My little Faith, you have 
always been wanting to do some great thing for 
God, to show your love to Him who first loved 
us. He is now pointing out the way, and are 
you already drawing back ? ’’ 

I smiled at once through my tears, and so soon 
after writing you that Faith White knew not what 
she was io do for her Master, He is showing her. 

Hitherto the greatest difficulty has been to 
obtain a patent under King James’ broad seal, 
granting “ Liberty of Conscience ” wherever we 
should go, that is, the right to worship God as we 
please, in this new land; and three years ago 
strong efibrts were made at great expense, that a 
colony might go to the West Indies, but all m 
vain. 

Soon after, two men, deemed suitable to carry 
out such important arrangements, were selected, 
Mr. Carver and Mr. Cushman, who went to 
England, and with much trouble, with the assist- 
ance of Sir Edwin Sandys, a godly man and 
26 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK, 


distant relative of Mr. Brewster, having much 
influence at court, they have at last succeeded in 
obtaining a patent, granted under the Seal of the 
Virginia Company, and permitting us to settle in 
New England. 

But the utmost promise of religious freedom 
that they could obtain from the King, was his 
saying, “ Provided they carry themselves peacea- 
bly, no molestation shall be offered them on re- 
ligious grounds.” 

After this was gained, an agreement was en- 
tered into with some wealthy men in London, 
and other places in England, who are to lend us 
money, pay the expenses, and divide the profits. 
“ Largely to their own benefit,” I heard father 
say the other night, “ but we are poor and weak, 
they rich and strong, so we must fain do the best 
we can, thank God it is so well as it is, since it 
might have been much worse, and trust His un- 
failing goodness for the future.” 

Father afterwards explained to me the agree- 
ment between the Merchant Adventurers and 
ourselves, which, as it now stands, has been 
declared “ to be on conditions better fitted for 
thieves and bond slaves, than honest men,” so 


27 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEF BOOK. 


hard is it, taking such advantage of our strait- 
iiess and poverty. 

Grandfather often says to me, “ You have a 
wise little head at figures. Faith,” and perhaps I 
understand it so perfectly, that I can correctly 
repeat it to you. 

The partnership is to last seven years, and the 
shares are to be divided in ten pounds each. 
Each person, over sixteen years of age, going 
himself or herself, is to be counted as one share ; 
if he has ten pounds, two shares, and so on in 
that proportion. Two children between ten and 
sixteen count a share ; so Paul and I will have 
one between us, but I cannot help wishing that 
I was a year older. Does such a wish break the 
ninth commandment ? 

All persons are to be fed and clothed at the 
expense of the colony, out of the common store, 
and at the end of seven years all the profits that 
have been made in any manner, by trading, 
tilling the ground, fishing or otherwise; all the 
houses, lands, goods and chattels, are to be put 
together, and divided equally among all, giving 
to each according to his number of shares. 

Father says it is almost the same as giving 
seven years hard labor to get to America, and 
28 


faith; WHITE’S IETTEjR book. 


mother answered him, “But Jacob willingly 
served fourteen years for his beloved Rachel, and 
thought them nothing because of the love he 
bore her. Can we not do half as much for the 
Lord who bought us ? 

It was asked, and agreed in the first place, that 
our houses, gardens, and home-fields should be 
reserved to us as private property, and that each 
person might work two days weekly for his own 
benefit ; but now they refuse to allow what seems 
so just, and Mr. Cushman writes that the con- 
ditions mentioned are the best he can possibly 
obtain. 

I forgot to add that each child under the age 
of ten is to have, at the end of seven years, 
fifty acres of uncultivated land. Mary says she 
wants hers full of trees and flowers, where the 
birds will come and sing, and build their nests ; 
and she can hear the bees buzzing as they fly 
around gathering honey. 

She is herself a darling little busy bee, going 
around in the “ great dark,” as she used to say 
when she first became blind, — for she lost her 
sight after having brain-fever two years ago, and 
has never seen David, — gathering honey from 
every flower and weed on life’s highway, and 
29 


FAITH WHITE’S lETTEB, BOOK, 


storing it up against our winter of discontent — 
ours, not hers, for she is always happy and 
contented. 

A great deal has been said within a week of 
the possibility of better success, if another at- 
tempt were now made to obtain some promise 
from King James ; and we foolish children, 

m 

who have a great horror of a possible future of 
trial, like that through which our parents have 
struggled and suffered, have talked over many 
wild schemes for accomplishing it, and I don’t 
know how else to explain what I am going to 
tell you about Patience. 

Last Saturday she came into Bird’s Nest, not 
in her usual frolicsome, noisy way, but as quietly 
as her mother would have done, and now I re- 
member that she h^d been remarkably demure 
for several days. At first she was very silent, 
and I was about to ask her if she had made a 
mistake in her sampler, one of life’s deepest 
afflictions to her, when she went up to my little 
looking-glass, glanced in it a moment, and facing 
me, said abruptly — Do you think I am pretty. 
Faith?” 

I stopped my spinning-wheel, and looked at 
her in utter amazement, for I had never thought 
30 


JFAITH WIEEITE^S ZETTEB BOOK, 


she knew how pretty she was, or cared, but I 
answered candidly, “Yes, Patience, I think you 
are.’’ 

“ Yery pretty — beautiful — do you think ? ” 

“ Yes, beautiful.’’ 

“ I don’t know whether I am glad or sorry,” 
she said musingly, and after a few moments 
bashful hesitation, and with pleading look that 
would have made the hardest heart relent, she 
went on, “ Don’t you remember. Faith, how we 
read in the Apocrypha about Judith, who, by her 
beauty, with God’s blessing, won the confidence 
of Holofernes, Captain of the great army of 
Nabuchodnosor, and killing him saved Israel 
from destruction ? And how the beauty of Es- 
ther prevailed upon Ahasuerus, and the Jews 
were spared? And, too, that Abigail’s beauty 
softened the heart of David, when he went up to 
destroy churlish Nabal ? ” 

She stopped, and I nodded and said, “ Yes, I 
remember.” 

“ Well, don’t laugh at me, please don’t, but 
you know Father is related to Sir Edwin Sandys, 
and he is influential at court and with His Wor- 
shipful Majesty ; ” here she made as low a court- 
esy as if she thought she were already in King 
31 


faith: whitens zettee book. 


James’ very presence, “ and I have thought — it 
is so foolish I know — if I could go to England, 
and God would bless this gift of beauty that you 
say He has given to me, as He did theirs, and I 
could persuade King James to give us this Char- 
ter of Liberty of Conscience,” here her voice, 
which at each word had grown weaker, failed her 
entirely, and she hid her scarlet face in her 
hands, through which the fast-flowing tears 
trickled, then threw herself on the floor beside 
me, and laying her head in my lap, cried aloud. 

I stroked her soft hair in silent sympathy, not 
knowing whether to laugh at, or cry with her. I 
had never dreamed of such a serious thought in 
that sunshiny head, with its sheen of golden 
curls. Besides, her scheme was so wild, so 
romantic and preposterous, withal ridiculous, 
and yet she was so deeply in earnest, I did not 
know how to tell her so. 

“ And you want to know exactly what I think 
about it ? ” I asked her when she was a little 
more quiet. 

“ If you please. Faith, but don’t ridicule me ! ” 

“ Well, you know that long before we fled from 
England, nearly a thousand ministers of our 
faith petitioned the King for Liberty of Con- 


£'AITII WHITENS ZETTEB BOOK. 


science, and he granted them a conference from 
which they hoped much. You and I have often 
heard your father tell of that conference, how 
the King, pretending to be ready to hear what 
they complained of, having called in a great 
number of his Bishops, brow-beat, ridiculed, and 
railed at the fair men, — good and learned 
preachers representing the petition, — and finally 
his bitter threat as he sent them away, which the 
Lord has permitted him to carry out. ‘ If this 
be all that they have to say, I shall make them 
conform themselves, or I will hurry them out of 
the land, or yet do worse.’ 

“ You know how he carried out that threat. 
How he made his ‘‘ Book of Sports,” for the 
Sabbath, forbidding bear or bull-baiting, but en- 
joining archery, . running, vaulting — and all 
athletic games. You know the fine of twenty 
pounds a month for staying away from church- 
service, — your father has often paid it ; you 
know how he forbade preaching, and praying or 
catechising in any private family, if any one be- 
sides the family was present. You remember 
how every one was to be excommunicated, — 
which meant that he could not sue for his debts, 
and imprisonment for life, — if a word was said 
33 


JFJJLTU WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


against the Church of England, its forms and 
ceremonies, its government, or any of its offi- 
cers ; or if they should separate from the com- 
munion of that church, and make a new brother- 
hood with another name. 

We have been “ hurried out of the land,^’ 
thankful that we could escape ; and how he has 
“ done yet worse ” to others less fortunate, you 
know as you recall the long, horrible stories of 
fines, imprisonment, and mutilation ; even with 
their cheeks branded, their noses slit, their ears 
cut off, and whipped publicly at a post for no 
worse crimes. 

“ Do you think that from such a relentless 
persecutor of the right, a promise made to beauty 
would be binding ? Why, Patience, he dislikes 
your father so much, because of the books he 
has written and printed here in Leyden, against 
the abuses and wrongs of the Church of Eng- 
land, that he might make a martyr of you, or 
keep you in the Tower all the rest of your natu- 
ral life ! ’’ 

“ So you don’t think it is my duty — that I can 
do any good ? ” 

“No, nothing.” 

“I am so glad — so gladT^ she said with a 

34 


FAITH WHITENS ZETTEM BOOK, 


sigh of relief, and immediately she was the 
merry-hearted Patience I had always known; 
after bathing her swollen eyes, and laughing 
at the “ beauty ” she saw in the glass, she had a 
romp with David who waked just then, and 
finally went skipping away, while I spun rapidly 
to make up for lost time, and wondered at this 
strange freak — this new trait of character in my 
friend. 

In the uncertainty and doubt as to what was 
best, it was thought right to hold a day of fasting 
and prayer, on which to meet and ask counsel of 
the Lord. Mr. Robinson, our pastor, whose wife 
is a half-sister of father’s, gave us a powerful 
sermon. His text was in First Samuel xxiii : 3. 
4. “ And David’s men said unto him. Behold, 
we be afraid here in Judali: how much more 
than if we were to Keilah against the armies of 
the Philistines? Then David inquired of the 
Lord yet again. And the Lord answered him, 
and said. Arise, go down to Keilah : for I will 
deliver the Philistines into thy hand.” 

It was full of zeal for the Lord, encouragement 
to duty, and trustful faith. It was like the sound 
of a battle-trumpet, so that the most timorous 
and doubtful ngw feel strong-hearted, and ready 
35 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEB BOOK. 




to venture, believing that Jehovah, with His right 
arm that doeth valiantly, will as certainly lead us 
as the Israelites of old, when they went forth into 
the wilderness ; if not with a pillar of cloud by 
day and fire by night, yet as clearly by His provi- 
dence and grace. 

Recalling our bitter past, it seems to me that 
God has long been leading us through desert- 
lands, by cloud and fire. May He grant us 
sunshine in our future journeyings. 

Patience and I have been having long talks 
about that sunny future over our work, she at 
her embroidery and I at my kind of fancy-work 
— mending. 

“ 0, Faith ! ’’ said she to-day, while her eyes, 
blue as the sky, shone brightly, “ I shall be so 
glad' to live in that beautiful country with hills 
as high as the clouds, and great forests, full of 
flowers and strange plants, where the wild deer 
range, and rare birds and butterflies go flitting 
by. The best of it is, it will be all our own, — 
nobody can come and hunt and persecute us ; 
and father says, with God’s blessing we will some 
day have a great colony there, — a country that 
England will be proud of, and as glad to claim us 
then, as once to drive us away. 

3ft 


FAITH WHITENS ZETTElt BOOK. 


“ And, too, he says that we will lay the found- 
ation of a true, spiritual church, with no earthly 
power to command us how we must serve God ; 
and then all that are oppressed in England, and 
other lands, can come there, and we will treat 
them kindly, and welcome them, as the Amster- 
dam and Leyden people welcomed us. 

“ They say, besides, that the Indians where we 
are going are heathen — real, dreadful heathen, 
who do horrible things, even torturing their ene- 
mies and prisoners to death ! But father says we 
are going to treat them kindly, and pay for all 
the things we get from them, so they will trust 
and love us, and then some may become Chris- 
tians. You and I can help. Faith, by seeking 
out the poor little red children, and teaching 
them to read, so they can learn about Jesusj^and 
make them clothes to wear. 0, it will be so de- 
lightful ! I always have wanted to be a mission- 
ary ! ” and Patience jumped up, and hugged me 
for joy till I was half-smothered, and danced 
about as if almost crazy. 

But her overflow of joy is not to be wondered 
at, for her father has suffered greatly in our 
cause — God’s cause perhaps I should say. Ho 
was once employed at court in the service of Sir 
37 


FAITS WHITENS LETIEB BOOK. 


William Davison, Queen Elizak^etli’s secretary, 
and was highly esteemed by him. Patience says 
her eldest brother can well remember that at one 
time, when his father was on his way to court. 
Sir William let him wear a magnificent gold 
chain that had been presented to him a little 
while before, for some distinguished service while 
on an embassy from the Queen into the Low 
Countries. 

When the unfortunate Secretary of State was 
thrown out of office, his estate mostly confiscated, 
and he himself confined in the Tower by the 
treachery of Elizabeth, because at her bidding 
he had drawn up the death-warrant of Mary, 
Queen of Scotts, which she had afterwards 
signed, and sent by him to the Chancellor to 
affix the Great Seal, Mr. Brewster still clung to 
him, doing all he could to alleviate his distress, 
for Davison was a godly man. 

But his occupation at court being gone, soon 
after Sir William’s imprisonment, he came to 
Scrooby in Yorkshire, but a few miles from our 
old home in Austerfield, rented a farm which had 
once been a park of the Archbishops, and was 
postman many years. 

Hour after hour Patience and I sat on low 


FAITH WHITENS ZETTEB BOOK, 


stools at the feet of Fear Brewster, an older 
sister, and listened to her tales of the old Manor 
House in Scrooby. She described it as an inner 
court-building, surrounded by an outer court 
four times the size, built of heavy oaken timber 
except the brick front, to the grand entrance of 
which they went up by massive stone steps : the 
wood- work within, was carved with figures of 
Cupids and dragons, fruit and flowers, and all 
sorts of nameless things : and 0, the mysterious, 
winding galleries, and dark recesses, the gloomy 
vaults and lofty-ceiled drinking halls ! 

Around all for the sake of defence had been a 
wide, deep moat ; and we listened with round 
eyes at the very thought that Fear “ had slept 
and played again and again without fear P’ — as 
she used to say to make us laugh — “ in the very 
room in which wicked old Henry the Eight, 
who had six wives, had passed the night on his 
journey to the North ! ” 

It was to tliis same Manor House that Cardinal 
Wolsey retired after his fall, “ in the sere and 
yellow leaf” of his changeful career, and Fear 
used to report many traditions of his charity, 
giving alms of money, meat and drink to the 
poor near by, and of neighboring parishes, hap- 
39 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


pier, no doubt, than when clad in scarlet robes 
he dwelt in the royal palace. 

From this Manor House the haughty Arch- 
bishops of York used to go galloping bravely off 
to the chase, followed by splendid retinues ; and 
returning at night, laden with game and wild 
fowl taken from the marshy moors, revel and 
feast, with song, and jest, and drunken riot all 
night resounding from the Manor of the Bishops, 
which in later time echoed our songs of praise, 
and voice of prayer — for there our secret meet- 
ings were long held. 

When Mr. Brewster cast in his lot with us, he 
lost much of his property, and being a prominent 
man was closely watched, and bitterly persecu- 
ted. When we first attempted to come to Hol- 
land and were betrayed, he was one who paid a 
large sum of money to the treacherous Captain ; 
and when arrested, his books and money were 
taken from him, and he lay for months in prison, 
with Mr. Bobinson and others. Having thus lost 
and expended nearly everything, he was quite 
poor when he came here, but, being learned, by 
printing and teaching, he now has considerable 
property. The best of all is he has so many 
books, which Patience and I read together — 

40 


FAITM WHITE*S UETTFJR BOOK, 


indeed all the little I know is due to Patience 
Brewster’s dear, good father. 

Yet he is not perfectly safe here, and he was 
obliged to go to London about a year since, and 
secrete himself for a long time from the wrathful 
Bishops, whom he had written against, and who 
were on the alert to find, even arresting the 
wrong man at one time, but thus far God has 
kept him from their murderous hands. 

So while Patience rejoices merrily, looking for- 
ward to freedom from persecution, with the birds 
and butterflies in the lonely security of the 
western forests, I sit and spin more quietly, and 
think of how many strange and wonderful sights 
and experiences I shall have to write to you. 

I am glad of that, for when some day, I find 
you, I don’t want these letters to seem to you as 
only stale, egotistical reports of my own dull 
thoughts and doings. 

But our elders are not so hopeful as we foolish 
girls, who see only the rose-color of the western 
sky. Yesterday I found my dear mother leaning 
her throbbing head on her hand, and reading 
with tearful eyes, “ The Lord is my shepherd ; I 
shall not want.” I think mother is anxious also 
about Mary. The precious lamb grows weaker 

41 


FAITU WHITENS ZETTEB BOOK. 


every day, so that when my work is done, and I 
take her and David to walk in the streets, and 
through the public gardens, she says she is so 
tired she had rather sit still in the warm spring 
sunshine, and hear the glad birds sing praise to 
God. 

Though only nine years old, she talks so 
sweetly about the heavenly city, wondering if it 
can be more beautiful with its gates of pearl and 
golden streets, than Leyden is. She also says a 
great deal about mother, and the baby-sister 
Hope, asking if she is a baby still, or has grown 
the same as if she had lived on earth ; and won- 
dering if mother would know the little Mary she 
left, now she had grown so large. 

The other day after we had been talking of 
crossing the sea, and the beauties of the new 
country, I heard her tell David that perhaps she 
would not go with us, but go far away, ever and 
ever so far away beyond the moon and the stars, 
on a journey all alone by^ herself, except that 
Jesus was going to take a good tight hold on her 
hand, and lead her ; and that He would lift His 
little blind Mary over all the stones and ditches, 
till they came to a beautiful city, that had great 
high gates, all over like the pearls that Rose 
42 


FAITH WHITE’S lETTEM BOOK, 


Standisli wears, some rare jewels that belong to 
her husband, Captain Standish, who is from a 
noble family in England. She has no children, 
and when she comes to see us she lets David look 
at, and play with them, because he likes them so 
much. 

And Mary went on to say she ^ would not be 
blind there, and she should see her mother, who 
died when she was a wee baby, and told sister 
Faith to take good care of her, so she would 
grow up to be good, and love the Lord Jesus. 

I ’ll pick a bouquet of beautiful flowers for 
her,” said the dear child, “ and tell her who I 
am, and hug and kiss her, and say that I have 
tried to be a good girl, and that I do love the 
Lord Jesus who led me all the way so nicely 
that I never fell once.” 

She said also that she should see David that 
killed Goliath, who is our David’s greatest hero, 
next to father of course, who he thinks could 
have destroyed that giant quite as easily; and 
she did not think she . would be too much afraid 
of him, to go and tell him she had a dear little 
brother David down in Leyden, who loved to 
have his sister Faith tell him how he took five 


43 


X'AITn WHITENS EETTEB BOOK. 


cunning little smooth stones out of the brook, 
and killed old Goliath with the very first one. 

Finally she assured David that if he was good 
the Lord would some day call him, as He did 
Samuel, and he would go and live with her in 
that beautiful city always. 

The dear children! May they sometime in 
the far-off future meet there. 

Paul is even more delighted than I at the idea 
of going to America, and has decided to be a 
great soldier, like Miles Standish, and figlit the 
fierce savages who have killed so many English 
traders in those wilds. He has so much zeal, 
and is so ready to fight in a good cause, that I 
think he should have been named Peter instead 
of Paul, for so far as the Indians are concerned 
he does not believe in the gospel of peace.’’ 

He has of late been begging father to get him 
a gun like one belonging to Jasper Carver, who 
is so much older than Paul that he can be safely 
trusted with it, and since father’s final refusal he 
has been practising with a painted wooden sword, 
and bows and arrows of his own construction, 
that ho may be invincible and a good shot ; so I 
hear nothing from him except of parrying, thrust- 
ing, and fencing; and am called down from 
44 


FAITH WHITENS TETTER BOOK. 


Bird’s Nest every little while to see his targets, 
and to pass judgment on his list of hits and 
misses. 


45 


» 


CHAPTER lY, 


# 


Bird^s Nest, Monday, May 1. 

my Cariad, pity us — pity me ! The 
Lord has so soon called our Samuel ! 
After four days sickness, and such 
dreadful pain, David is dead. Our darling little 
David, whom I so much loved, yet sometimes was 
unkind to, has gone far beyond my reach ! 

There he is now, so cold and white, his little, 
mischievous fingers still and stiff, his roving, rest- 
less feet quiet, and his bird-like voice answering 
me never a word, nor does he give me even a kiss 
from his once cherry-red lips, now pale and chill, 
when I kneel beside him, and beg him to forgive, 
and love me, and call me Sister Faith in his own 
sweet way. 

It seems to me that I cannot have it so — that 
I can never say “ Thy will be done.” 

Father and mother are so crushed by this 
46 


FAITH WHITENS TETTER BOOK, 


sudden blow, but they bear it submissively, saying 
each like old King David, — “0 my darling 
David ! my Beloved ! — While the child was yet 
alive I fasted and wept : for I said. Who can tell 
whether God will be gracious to me, that the 
child may live ? But now he is dead wherefore 
sl«)uld I fast ? Can I bring him back again ? I 
shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.” 

“ Shall not return to me ! ” Not to-morrow — 
nor the next day — nor forever in any of the 
long weeks and years ! 0, David, David, come 

back again, come back ! 

Poor grandfather leans brokenly on his staff, 
sighing “ Lord, how long ? ” and Mary’s soul-full 
eyes swim in a mist of tears, as she sits and 
holds his little cold hand, — it is not dimpled 
now but so thin, — singing softly to herself the 
hymns we all used to sing at nightfall, when 
little by little the heavy lids fell over the sleep- 
dimmed eyes. 

Never again will he rouse, lift his bright head, 
unclose the dreamy eyes, and, joining his childish 
voice for a moment with ours, drop back again on 
my breast;. for death has sealed the lids, and 
evermore weighed them down, and far away he is 
singing the new song that no man knoweth. 

47 


FAITH WHITE*S LETTER BOOK. 


Paul, always looking forward to the time when 
David should be ‘‘ a great boy,” has forgotten his 
bows and arrows in his grief; and the bright 
painted sword in which David so much delighted, 
playing with it in his sickness between his 
spasms of pain, is laid by. He moves round the 
house uneasily, as if looking for something 
lost, — something is indeed lost that we shall find 
no more ! — and tries to do things for poor 
mother that will show his sympathy and sorrow. 

But every little while he runs away to his own 
room, closes the door, and I hear him throw him- 
self on the bed and sob as if his heart would 
break ; while my heart is as a stone in my breast, 
and I cannot weep nor pray, — only think and 
think, how my beautiful, loving baby brother has 
gone away forever, and cannot come back to me, 
who was often so impatient with him ! 

48 


CHAPTER Y. 


Bird's Nesty Wednesday ^ May 10. 
is such a sad record for me to write 


» 


to you, my friend. How can the sun 
shine, and the birds sing when our hearts 
are drear as midnight? How can the bright, 
joyous days succeed the dewy nights, and all 
things go on as before, in merriment and bustle, 
when we lie crushed under the weight of God’s 
hand, so strong to save, but 0, so swift to smite ? 

This does not seem like the same world as 
when I wrote you on my birthday. I can hardly 
persuade myself that I am the same “ little Faith 
White,” as I sit here by my dying sister Mary, 
talking, as she passes on, of the golden st]?etJtS7 
and the angel-children with David among theih ; 
of mother and little Hope, her peaceful face 
lighting up with smiles, as if, with her spiritual 
eyes already 
able. 


unsealed, she 


saw glories unutter- 


y 


/ 

/ . 

^^AITU WHITE’S ZETTEIt BOOK. 

/ 

Ta the next room lies grandfather, dying too. 
“ A sheaf of corn long since ready to be gathered, 
and carried to the Master’s garner,” he said to 
me, when to-day I threw myself down beside him 
in a passionate burst of grief, after coming home 
from David’s lonely — so lonely grave. “ For 
me to live is Christ, but to depart and be with 
Christ, is far better,” he went on to say, and I 
know it is so ; but how can we give up these 
also ? 

Last night as I stood at the door looking up at 
the bright unpitying moon, and the stars, that 
far above and beyond me seemed to smile at, and 
mock my sorrow, thinking such hard and bitter 
thoughts of God’s ways and will, Mr. Robinson 
came in. He said not a word at first, but laid 
his cool hand on my throbbing head in silent 
blessing ; such thrills of comfort it sent through 
me, that before he spoke, saying, “ Be comforted, 
little one, for what we know not now we shall 
know hereafter,” I felt that all was best and 
right, that it was true, even in this overwhelming 
sorrow, that the Lord is good, is good and kind. 

But to-day again am I grieving over the little, 
cheerless mound in the green churchyard, where 
David’s restless feet have pattered so often, but 
60 


FAITS WHITENS FETTER BOOK. 


are at rest now; and over the other graves we 
sliall soon add to his, when it shall be said of 
grandfather and Mary, each “ Lieth down and 
riseth not up again till the heavens be no more.” 

Can I — must I say, “ Thy will be done ? ” 

Bird^s Nest, Saturday, June 3. 

My Cariad : — It is all over. With the child- 
ren beside him grandfather sleeps, and they are 
all gone home. 

Two weeks ago last Sabbath eve, at sunset, 
Mary started up from a sweet sleep, saying, “ 0, 
I can see all of you — dear father, mother. Faith 
and Paul ! But here are Jesus and David wait- 
ing for me. Kiss me good-bye quick — I must 
go. 0, the beautiful city — the beautiful city! ” 
and so she laid back in father’s arms, and fell 
asleep. 

Grandfather followed her the next morning. 
The manner of his dying was as the stately step- 
ping of a warrior, who follows his Captain un- 
questioningly, eagerly, to the death. It had been 
a wild night of storm, like his tempest-tossed life, 
and the confusion of the elements seemed to 
rally him, for at intervals during the night, he 
spoke lofty words of cheer, such strains of en- 
61 


FAITS WHITENS ZETTEM BOOK. 

coiiragement to duty, that we, or at least I, had a 
faint hope that he might recover. 

But it was not so to be. In the morning, after 
counseling us to Put on the whole armor of 
God, and fight the good fight of faith,’’ he called 
me to the bedside, and like dying Jacob laid his 
hand on my head, saying, “ The angel which re- 
deemed me from all evil, bless thee, thou fii’st- 
born of my only daughter. The Lord bless thee 
and keep thee. The Lord make His face to shine 
upon thee, and comfort thee.” 

And as we all knelt around the bed in speech- 
less agony of prayer, he cried with a loud voice, 
Now the God of peace, that brought again from 
the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of 
the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting 
covenant, make you perfect in every good work 
to do His will, working in you that which is well- 
pleasing in His sight, through Jesus Christ, to 
whom be glory forever and ever.” 

Then Mr. Kobinson, who had spent the night 
with us, followed in prayer, and when we arose 
grandfather was not, for God had taken him. 

The rays of the morning sun streaming in 
through the latticed window, made his flowing 
silver hair look like the aureole we see round the 


52 


FJLITM WSITE^S EETTEIt BOOK. 


pictured heads of the saints in Catholic Cathe- 
drals, and lighted up his face with a radiant 
smile. ‘‘ Do not weep, my little children,’^ said 
Mr. Robinson to Paul and me. “Rather give 
thanks, and pray each of us ‘ Let me die the 
death of the righteous, and let my end be like 
his.’ ” 

Since then I have been quite ill myself. Good 
Dr. Fuller, mother’s brother, who told me not to 
trust in his healing skill, but look away to the 
Great Physician, said it arose from exhaustion, 
care, and sorrow. For two days I thought I was 
going to join the greater host, in the upper 
sanctuary, but my disease yielded, and now I am 
almost well again. 

I have often wondered how I would feel to be 
called on to die suddenly, but I was not afraid, 
and I can never forget the sweet experience of 
those two days of utter prostration, when, as in a 
dream, I saw a grand procession of God’s sure 
promises marching “ over the mountains of my 
sins, and the hills of my iniquities,” my short- 
comings and wrong-doings, — till I saw these 
swift witnesses against me no more, and instead 
of their bitter accusing, heard the precious as- 
surances of Mother’s favorite twenty-third Psalm, 
63 


FAITH WHITENS IE TIE B BOOK. 


repeated again and again by invisible choirs and 
presences. 

Some of father’s friends, particularly Uncle 
Eoger White, Mrs. Robinson’s own brother, and 
father’s half-brother, have been quite anxious 
that I should remain here, and go on with my 
studies, till the next ship load goes. It added 
not a little to the strength of the temptation, 
that Patience, after ail her day-dreams, is to stay 
with Fear, and a married brother’s family. 

Father left the decision entirely to me, not 
even saying what he wished to have me do, and I 
was much perplexed to know what was the path 
of duty, but I have finally decided to go with 
them, and my lightness of heart since that con- 
clusion, makes me feel that I have done right. 
Indeed, when I told father so, and he folded me 
in his arms, saying with a tremulous voice, ‘‘ My 
darling daughter Faith, I could not have gone 
without you,” I wondered that for a moment I 
could have thought of parting from him ; for I 
am still the “ eldest daughter,” though only Paul 
is left to me ; tliough the other two are gone — 
gone beyond us all in love and knowledge. 

Whatever happens to us in our uncertain 
future, to which we all look witli somewhat of 

54 


FAITn WHITENS EETTEM BOOK. 

dread, cannot affect them, our little lilies of the 
valley, that withered so soon, and are now trans- 
planted in the Lord’s Garden of Spices. 

It is a very busy time now with so much sew- 
ing and spinning, hut I am not disturbed by any 
restless feet running to and fro into mischief. 
Mother never says to me as soon as the house has 
been silent for a few moments, “ My daughter, I 
think you had better look for David.” 

I have no little dirty face, or soiled, dimpled 
hands to wash again and again daily ; no tiny 
garments to smooth, put on, take off and fold up, 
morning and evening; no stories to tell, or child’s 
songs to sing ; I do not commence “ Our Father ” 
for him to take up and finish sentence by sen- 
tence, nor have to give any words of comfort, or 
kisses of healing, when some accident or mis- 
chance has happened. 

Sometimes I fancy I hear a rustle and stir in 
Bird’s Nest, and am half-way up the stairs before 
I think how bare and empty it now is, and how 
our precious birdlings rest there no longer, hut 
nestle in the Saviour’s bosom, and sing carols to 
Him that redeemed them, and brought them 
safely there, to flutter their wings in the chill air 
of earth no more. 


55 


VA T TTT WHITENS ZETTEJt BOOK. 

No children in the house ; 0, it is so dreary ! 
Occasionally I hear a childish voice in the street, 
of pain or anger perhaps, and I jump up think- 
ing that I must bring David in, before I remem- 
ber “ It is well with the child.’’ 0, how sweet 
would it now seem, were I never so tired and 
busy, to hear his most continuous cry of fretful 
grieving or importunate pleading ! How delight- 
ful to guide Mary’s hesitating feet into sunny 
places ! 

I never see Paul practising with his sword and 
bow, nor is it the height of his ambition to have 
a gun like Jasper Carver’s ; nor do Patience and 
I talk and dream over the sunny future, for God 
has. taught- us that with one sweep of His hand 
He can dash out our beautiful pictures of fancy. 

Faith White is finding her path of duty. It is 
very hard to walk in, my Cariad. These great 
tilings are hard to do ; these great trials hard to 
bear. 


Bird^s Nest, Thursday, July 20. 

The full fledged bird leaves the parent nest 
forever, I, too, have outgrown this little room, 
and tremble on the edge as I balance off into the 
wide world. I shall never date Bird’s Nest 


56 


FAITH WHITENS ZETTEB BOOK. 


again, and my hand lingers as I write it, — 
lingers lovingly, and regretfully, for this is our 
last night in beloved old Leyden. 

Can it be that I shall never look on these 
familiar sights again, nor pass through the 
busy streets, the green squares, the University 
grounds, and bright flower garden? Yet they 
could never seem as in the olden time : I should 
always miss the clinging, timid clasp of Mary’s 
hand, and the unceasing patter of David’s feet. 

It was a great trial to say good-bye to their 
graves, now grass-grown and starry with white 
daisies. So hard to think that I could never 
throw myself down by the grassy mounds, and 
with an arm laid over each, close my eyes and 
really fancy that they were sleeping beside me ; 
that David would start up from sleep, wide- 
awake, and rouse me with a kiss ; or Mary say, 
“ Sister Faith, I feel the light ; I think it is 
morning.” 

Poor mother ! I thought her heart would break 
with the anguish of parting, but when father told 
her it was not yet too late to choose if to go or 
stay, she answered like Ruth, ‘‘ Whither thou 
goest, I will go : thy people shall be my people.” 

Among several other cherished pets, our old 
57 


FAITH WHITENS FETTER BOOK. 


dog Pompey, Mary’s protector, is to be left, for 
we can take no animals larger than goats ; so the 
old cow, too, another valued member of the 
family for many years, will have to be given up. 
We can hardly coax Pompey from the church- 
yard, where he followed Mary’s coffin, and when 
he does come home, his piteous ^ moans, as he 
goes whining and seeking her round the desolate 
house — now doubly deserted — are sad to hear. 

I do wonder if some of the higher animals, 
with all their powers of love and devotion, dogs, 
cows, and horses, have not souls. I don’t know 
but the thought is wicked, but if I was sure that 
I should meet Pompey in heaven, I could better 
bear to throw my arms around his shaggy neck, 
and say good bye. But now the only certain 
comfort in regard to him, is that Patience has 
promised to care for him ; and she and Mercy 
Eobinson have also promised to tend the flowers, 
and plant some trees in the now dearest spot to 
us on earth, “ God’s Acre,” as the Germans call 
it, where Christ has planted the choice but cor- 
ruptible seed of our dead, which shall be raised 
in incorruptibility. 

To-day was our last day of fasting and prayer, 
and we are going forth, girded anew for this life- 
53 


FAITS WHITENS ZETTEB BOOK. 


battle, in the armor of promises that cannot fail ; 
“ For the word of the Lord endureth forever.” 

Mr. E-obinson’s text — 0, to think that we may 
never more hear his words of counsel — was Ezra 
viii : 21. “ Then I proclaimed a fact there, at 

the river of Ahava, that we might afflict our- 
selves before our God, to seek of him a right way 
for us, and for our little ones, and for all our sub- 
stance.” 

He told us that we must not lean on an arm 
of flesh, but God ; to trust not to man’s device, 
but to go for all guidance to the Word and the 
Testimony. He reminded us of our covenant 
long since made with God, that by this act we 
were renewing — “ To walk in all His ways made 
known, or to be made known unto us, according 
to our best endeavors, whatever it cost us.” 

He assured us our Christian course was but 
begun, and that although our little church had 
struggled through manifold trials, more were 
undoubtedly in store, sent to us in love from the 
hand of God who is love; that there was yet 
more in the heights and depths of all knowledge 
for us to learn, and we should best acquire that 
wisdom from the heavenly Teacher. He charged 
us before God and His blessed angels, to follow 
59 


FAITH WHITFAS TETTER BOOK, 


him no farther than he followed Christ ; to take 
no man as our example, but look constantly on 
the One Pattern, the man Christ Jesus ; and in 
seeking for truth or light, not to be deceived by 
error, or misled into darkness, but diligently ex- 
amine it, weighing it and comparing with other 
Scriptures before receiving it. 

After the services were over, all of us that are 
to sail on the morrow, and many others, repaired 
to Mr. Robinson’s house, where we kept, not a 
joyful feast with the shadow of this parting over 
us, but yet a pleasant one, with songs and good 
cheer. 

0, if Mr. Robinson could go with us ! But so 
many more of the church are to stay, that it is 
but right he should remain with them. Good- 
bye, Pastor dear, thou under shepherd, who hast 
so sought after the straying lambs of the flock, 
that thou hast led many back to the Great Shep- 
herd. God grant that thou mayest soon come 
after us, and together once more we may feed in 
the green pastures, and drink of the still waters 
of life. 

And darling Patience, what better can I wish 
for thee, than as Laban of old parting with 
Jacob, when, “ they set up stones, and made an 
CO 


FAITH WHITE’S lETTEIi BOOK. 


heap and called it Mizpali, for he said, “ The Lord 
watch between me and thee, when we are absent 
one from another.’’ 

Good-bye, Leyden, with thy loved ones, and 
little, green graves. Good-bye, Pompey — good- 
bye all. 


61 


CHAPTER VI. 


(3i 





On board Ship Speedwell, July 22. 

Y Cariad ; — Can it be possible that 
I am leaving you, also, behind? For 
Holland, dear Holland is out of 
sight. I watched with tearful eyes as long as I 
could see the receding hue of low coast ; now 
there is only a waste of waters between us and 
the shores I have called home so many years of 
my “ young life ” — which seemed so long a life 
to me four months ago, and seems so much 
longer now. 

Yesterday we left Leyden never to return. 
Never ! it is such a long time ! 

Mr. Robinson, and many of our friends, ac- 
companied us fourteen miles in our lazy, but 
beautiful ride on the canal to Delft-Haven, where 
we were to embark ; and there we found many 
of our old friends from Amsterdam, who also 


faith: whitens eettee book. 


had come to bid us God speed. They; gave us a 
parting feast, and we spent almost all the night 
ill prayer and conversation, saying those last 
words, so many of which we find .have been 
forgotten, as soon as we are separated. 

This morning the wind was fair, the sky blue, 
and the tide rising, so they came on board ship 
lying at anchor on the river Maese, and ere we 
set sail, we kneeled on the deck, while our be- 
loved pastor once more, and for the last time on 
earth it may be, commended us with all our 
interests to the care of a covenant-keeping God, 
then with a blessing bade us good bye. 

Our parting was like that of the disciples with 
St. Paul, of whom it is^said, “ And they all wept 
sore, and fell on Paul’s neck, and kissed him, 
sorrowing most of all for the words which he 
spake, tha,t they should see his face no more.” 

In speechless agony of sobs and tears we 
clasped hands lingerii^ly, — husband and wife, 
parents and children, relatives and friends, — but 
the unwaiting tide sped them away, so, as we 
drifted down the glassy river, we fired a parting 
salute, — a volley of small shot, and three pieces 
of ordinance, — and waved good-bye with our 
empty, unlocked hands still thrilling with that 
63 


FAITH WHITENS LETTEB BOOK. 


last anguished pressure, as they slowly faded, 
and finally disappeared in the dim distance. 

I like being on the ship. Paul already thinks 
he would rather be a sailor than a soldier, and is 
eager to‘ learn the names of the ropes and spars, 
and the meaning of nautical phrases. The free 
life of the sea must be fascinating to a bold 
roving spirit, but I cannot bear the thought of 
my one brother being a common sailor, vile and 
degraded as are these on board, subject to so 
much abuse and tyranny from their officers. 

We have a pleasant company on ship, made up 
from the most courageous and devoted of the 
church, and mostly of men young in years, but 
old in experience. First is Mr. Brewster, eldest 
of all, forty-six now, whom we reverence next to 
Mr. Robinson ; he is a deacon in the church, and 
will act as our Pastor till God shall send us one. 
Goodwife Brewster, as we call her, is a “ mother 
in Israel ” indeed, and seems like a mother to all 
of us, yet she now is quite feeble, more by weight 
of sorrows and cares, than years. They have 
two sons with them. Love and Wrestling, but 
Patience is not here, and every time I look at her 
father’s earnest face, or the prayerfully resigned 
countenance of her mother, I remember with 
G1 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK, 


filling eyes the solemn parting of the morning, 
like the separation of death, and how she is still 
weeping as they toil along the flower-banked 
canal to the deserted house. 

Next I must introduce to you Mr. Carver, a 
godly man, and another deacon in the church ; 
not that he is on board, but because he ought to 
come next to Mr. Brewster. He is now in 
England, where he has been for a long time, 
making preparations for our going, and we hope 
to meet him at Southampton. Mrs. Carver, a 
sister of Mr. Robinson, is a lovely, Christian 
woman, very feeble, but so devotedly attached to 
her husband, that she preferred running the risk 
of all dangers to being left behind ; and she and 
Jasper, their adopted son, a noble boy, and 
though many years older, a good friend of Paul, 
are counting every mile of the distance that our 
brave ship speeds over, and numbering the hours 
before they shall greet tlieir beloved. 

Mr. Bradford, a very learned man, and de- 
votedly pious, is also one of the leaders of this 
enterprise, who, although he lost much of his 
property when he came from England, has been 
blessed of God in the new occupation he chose 
in Leyden, — dyeing and working in silks, — so 
65 


FAITH WHITENS ZETTEB BOOK. 


that he now has more of wealth than most of us ; 
and out of his comparative abundance has given 
freely to forward the success of this pilgrimage. 
His wife accompanying him, whose maiden name 
was Dorothy May, — Mr. Bradford always calls 
her “ My May,’’ — has a sad face, as if life were 
but a shadow and weariness even on this bright 
day of sunshine. No wonder though, for as they 
spread the sails this morning, she unclasped a 
pair of little white arms clinging round her neck, 
and heard her only boy beg, with a tempest of 
sobs, “ Take me, too, mother ! ” and as our ship 
sailed bravely away, looking back, so far as 
she could see or hear, were those outstretched 
hands, and that heart breaking cry — “ Mother — 
Mother ! ” 

Mr. Edward Winslow, married about two years 
since, and younger than most of our leading 
men, is another passenger. He also had proper- 
ty, position and influence, yet like the “ certain 
scribe,” whose fidelity to Jesus, Matthew has 
handed down to blessed memory, he has said, 
“ Master, I will follow thee whithersoever thou 
goest.” Mrs. Winslow is so beautiful and good. 
I shall always love her for her kindness to us 
while the children were sick ; she came and went 
66 


FAITH WHITE’S lETTEM BOOK. 


like an angel, and it seemed to me always 
brought comfort with her. 

Don’t you know there are some people the 
very sight of whom does you good, making you 
happier when you are happy, and soothing you in 
grief? Have you never known persons whose 
coming into the room made all as cheery and 
bright, as when, after long, dark days of storm, 
the sun suddenly breaks through a cloud-rift, and 
lights up everything with radiance and beauty ? 
Mrs. Winslow and Patience are two just such 
sunbeams. 

Mrs. Winslow has an adopted child, Ellen 
Moore, sister of Jasper, Mr. Carver’s son. She 
is seven years old, with bright golden hair, and 
always so loving and gentle, and so suited for it, 
that Mrs. Winslow called her “ Little Sunshine ” 
at once, and now we never give her any other 
name. There were four of these orphan children 
when tiieir parents died six years ago, and the 
other two, James and Richard, between Jasper 
and Little Sunshine, Mr. Brewster took to his 
large, generous heart, that has always room in it 
for an abundant overflow of love towards any of 
Christ’s little ones. In fact he took care of 
Ellen, also, until Mrs. Winslow adopted her. 

67 


FAITH WHITENS IE TIE It BOOK. 

Captain Miles Standish, that stern, fearless 
warrior, Paul’s quondam hero, goes with us, as 
he says Not as defender of the faith ; but of the 
faithful.” But although he is mot a member of 
the church militant, — the fighting, struggling 
church, how applicable to us ! — I can but think 
he is a true Christian, an aclmowledged, 'elect 
member of the church triumphant. His wife, 
whom everybody calls “ Faire Bose Standish,” is 
the most beautiful woman I ever saw, and as 
good as fair. 

As I write, Captam Standish marches up and 
down the deck with his hand on his sword, that 
keen Damascus blade inscribed with mysterious 
characters, which has done good service in many 
a well fought battle, as if he was defying the 
world ; but when his eye falls on Bose Standish, 
or Little Sunshine, who is devotedly attached to 
his wife, the fierce, steely glitter fades out of his 
eyes and his face glows with a look of unuttera- 
ble love. 

Mr. Bobert Cushman, now in England, is 
another strong staff on which we lean ; and 
though many blame him severely for accepting 
such hard conditions, yet he assures us by letter 


68 


FAITH WHITENS TETTER BOOK, 


that he has done Ms best, and they hope to 
change them yet. 

John Howland and John Alden are two excel- 
lent young men, resolute and energetic ; nor 
must I omit dear uncle Samuel, Dr. Fuller, who 
took such good care of us in our illness that I 
love him more than ever before, and my heart 
beats in sympathy with the sadness of his, that 
“ knoweth its own bitterness,” as he sits near, 
looking with longing eyes towards Holland, 
where his dear ones are, for aunt Bridget, and 
Samuel, the baby, are left behind. God keep 
and comfort them all, and restore them to each 
other in a happy future. 

I have also another uncle on board, Mr. Ed- 
ward Fuller, with his wife, and son, named 
Samuel, too ; he is about Paul’s age, and they 
are at this moment climbing the ropes, each try- 
ing to surpass the other in height, 

I must not forget Mr. and Mrs. Chilton, be- 
cause Mary, their only daughter, though several 
years older than I, is very friendly and loving, 
saying that she is going to try to fill a little of 
the place made vacant in my heart when I left 
Patience; and she is to read Latin with Jasper 
G9 


FAITH WIIITF>S LETTER BOOK. 


Carver and me, when we get fairly started from 
England. 

Being so much older, I stand quite in awe of 
her atlainments, and expect to be the dunce of 
the class. I know Jasper is a better scholar than 
myself, but some how I do not care to have him 
surpass me: he is so generous in his successes 
and triumphs, that I think it always belongs to 
him to excel. 

Priscilla Mulbins, whose parents and one 
brother complete the family, is a warm friend of 
Mary’s, and as they walk up and down the deck, 
or sit and talk together, I think sadly of Patience 
and myself, and of the great, ever widening gulf 
of space between us. 

Mr. Isaac Alliston and his wife are near, with 
their little flock of children playing around — 
merry little sprites that they are, never still, so 
that though two are always in Mr. Alliston’s lap, 
it is never the same two five moments at a time ; 
and as they chirp and fidget around, I can only 
think of a brood of chickens, called a half-hour 
too soon to go to sleep under their mother’s 
wings, that nestle a moment, then run out, but 
soon go back to the patient, sheltering mother, 
who sits with one eye closed, never uttering a 
70 


FAITH WHITENS EETTEB BOOK. 


check of reproof to the restless heads, or weary 
feet, thrust out in all directions through her 
feathers to take one more moment of daylight. 

But somehow, my Cariad, in introducing my 
friends to you, I have wandered off to hens and 
chickens, unintentionally, although they are great 
friends of mine, and we have many on board 
that we hope will live to cross the ocean, and 
crow and cackle as merrily and vigorously there 
as in Holland. ' 

While I have been writing all this, the ship 
glides swiftly on with white outspreading wings, 
and the setting sun leaves a rosy haze as an 
omen of good awaiting us in the far western 
lands towards which we haste. The warm south- 
east wind blowing over from Holland, as if 
bringing good-bye kisses from lips we shall not 
soon again press, wafts us on to Southampton, 
where we are again to set sail for the new world : 
and as we press so gallantly on, all the griefs of 
the past seem drifting backward, as if we had 
shaken hands with care and sorrow, and said a 
perpetual good bye to those unwelcome, yet God- 
sent guests, forever. 

The noisy children, — few of whom if any 
have ever before been on board ship — laugh. 


FAITH WHITENS IE ITEM BOOK. 


romp and play on deck, while Mr. Brewster 
paces to and fro with folded arms, and a ques- 
tioning, earnest face as if seeking to know what 
was duty, although now and then he stops and 
looks lovingly, tenderly on me, — as he would 
upon Patience if she were but here, — even me, 
Your own 

Little Faith Wiote. 


72 


CHAPTEE YU. 


Speedwell, Southampton Harbor, Eng., 

Monday, July 31. 

N my own mother’s country — dear to me 
for her sake, dearer even than Holland. 
Ah ! how I have been wishing that grand- 
father could have lived to tread again his beloved 
England, forgetting, that he has gone to that 
“ heavenly country which is a better,” where all 
the old are young again. 

But I did not think to be grieving at God’s 
sweet will so soon. When I set me down to 
write, it was to tell you how much I like this 
rugged English coast, with its white chalk cliffs, 
and how many friends we have met, who, one 
with us in the Lord Jesus, have been awaiting us 
here for seven days, ready to go with our little 
flock on this ^lilgrimage. Among them is a Mr. 
Hopkins from London, helping, with his family — 
73 


faith: whitens letter book. 


seven in all, three children and two servants, 
to swell our number. 

There is also a Mr. Martin, from Billerica, in 
England, with his wife and adopted son. He has 
been buying and laying in provisions for the 
journey, and they have chosen him as Governor 
of the Speedwell, — that is, to attend to giving 
out provisions, and arranging all matters on 
board ship pertaining to our company. 

Mr. Carver has greeted his wife and son, and 
been comforted concerning the change made in 
the articles of agreement — for which he feared 
he would be blamed — by assurances from all 
the men that it is not his fault, and by a consol- 
ing letter fresli from Mr. Robinson’s warm heart, 
which father brought to him. 

Long and serious discussions have been held 
over this matter of conditions ; our leaders have 
refused tp sign them as they now stand, and Mr. 
Weston, agent for the Merchant Adventurers, 
has gone off to London highly offended, saying 
that we may shift as we can, he will do no more, 
although when in Leyden, conferring on the 
subject, he himself proposed that our house, and 
gardens, should be held as private property. 

About a hundred pounds were lacking to pay 
• 74 


faxib: whitens let tee book. 


the debts and leave port, and as a last resource 
we have been obliged to sell sixty or eighty 
firkins of butter. It leaves very little for our 
journey, and we have no oil ; and although going 
to a country inhabited by savage, warlike men, 
muskets and armor are greatly wanting, and not 
every man has even a sword. 

All these things seem against us. “ But we 
are in good hands — the Lord will provide for 
His own,” good wife Brewster says in such be- 
lieving faith, that the rest of us are ashamed to 
doubt. 

Mr. Robinson, having heard of our straits and 
fears, wrote us such a precious letter. It was 
read aloud to all, and handed round for reading, 
as Paul’s letters of love and counsel to the 
churches, were doubless read to and by his 
brethren in the Lord Jesus Christ,” long ago. 
I wish I could copy the whole, but it is too long ; 
yet some parts I cannot omit. 

After speaking of liis earnest longing to be 
with us, he says, “ Make account of me in the 
meanwhile, as of a man divided in myself with 
great pain, and as (natural bonds being set 
aside) having my better part with you.” 

He reminds us, “ As we are daily to renew our 
75 


F/f TT TT WHITENS LETTEJt BOOK. 


repentance with our God, special for our sins 
known and general for our unknown trepasses, 
so doth the Ijord call as in a singular manner 
upon occasions of such difficulty and danger as 
lieth upon you, to a both more narrow search 
and careful reformation of our ways in His sight, 
lest He calling to remembrance our sins forgot- 
ten by us, or unrepented of, take advantage 
against us, and in judgment leave us for the 
same to be swallowed up in one danger or 
other.’’ 

After recommending mutual forbearance, and 
admonishing us to follow peace with all men, 
being watchful “ that we neither at all in our- 
selves do give, no nor easily take offence being 
given by others,” he solemnly adds, “ And if 
taking of offence causelessly or easily at men’s 
doings be so carefully to be avoided, how much 
more heed is to be taken that we take not offence 
at God himself, which yet we certainly do so oft 
as we do murmur at His providence in our 
crosses, or bear impatiently such afflictions as 
wherewith He pleaseth to visit us. Store we up 
therefore patience against the evil day, without 
which we take offence at the Lord himself in His 
holy and just works.” 

70 


Jb'AITH WBIITE^S JLETTEB BOOK. 


“ Take offence of the Lord himself! ’’ Every 
word of that strikes home to my rebellious heart 
— my complaining soul. Is it not* possible that 
if I had been resigned to God’s will when David 
died, the Lord would have said It is enough,” 
and grandfather and Mary been spared to us ? 

Finally comes Mr. Kobinson’s parting words of 
benediction. “ These few things therefore, and 
the same in few words I do earnestly commend 
unto your care and conscience, joining therewith 
my daily incessant prayers unto the Lord, that 
He who hath made the heavens and the earth, 
the sea and all rivers of waters, and whose provi- 
dence is over all His works, specially over all His 
dear children for good, would so guide and guard 
you in all your ways, as inwardly by His Spirit, 
so outwardly, by the hand of His power, as that 
you and we also, for and with you, may have 
after matter of praising His name, all the days 
of yours and our lives. Fare you well in Him 
in whom you trust, and in whom I rest. 

“An unfeigned well wisher of your happy 
success in this hopeful voyage. 

John Robinson.” 


77 


faitb: WSITE>8 zetteb book. 


These are idle days of waiting till the necces- 
sary arrangements shall have been completed so 
that we can set sail again, to see land no more, 
probably, till we look upon our future home. 
Our two ships are being busily reladen — the 
Mayflower from London, much larger than. our 
little Speedwell, which we hope will verify its 
name, as so far it has done, and bear us swiftly 
homeward — yes, homeward, for I have thought 
• so much of that unknown land towards which we 
haste, that it seems to me to have in it stately 
homes in the midst of great forests, whose wav- 
ing branches are beckoning to us to come and 
take possession. 

“ What a vain, idle thought,” I seem to hear 
you say, “ and how Faith White is laying up 
disappointments for herself!” I know it; but 
we have to fill in these slow-going hours as best 
we can. Even then they drag heavily, though 
we have had some sweet communion with these 
friendly Christians in Southampton ; and Jasper 
and Paul, with Little Sunshine and myself have 
had also grand rambles through this old town, 
wonderful with its massive walls and huge tow- 
ers, the favorite resort of English Kings and 
Queens for many long years ; and through the 
78 


faitb: whitens letter book. 


ancient churches, St. Michael’s and St. Mary’s, 
listening to the organ’s echoes, as they are re- 
peated from the tall columns through the lofty 
aisles. 

Then there is the new forest, hundred of acres 
in extent, covered with huge old trees, and 
carpeted wtth velvet grass and moss, where 
we have whiled away many otherwise toilsome 
hours, or watching the changing slant of the 
sunbeams through these grander columns and 
arches, while far beyond, on the blue upper deep, 
drifted the white-winged clouds, like ships with 
full spread sails. 

On board ship we sit and watch the tide in its 
unwearying ebb and flow, or are rocked to sleep 
by it in the little boats lying alongside. The 
days pass lingeringly to others besides myself. 
To be sure the merry little Allertons, having 
made friends with Mr. Hopkins’ children, romp 
around continually, tired of any amusement in 
five moments, but never weary enough to sit 
still, or be still, except when asleep. 

But Mrs. Bradford’’s pale face has a wistful 
look of home sickness, and the sad expression of 
her eyes means, “ I want my boy.” Mr. Martin 
buzzes around quite like a wasp — practical and 

79 


FAITH WHITENS ZETTEB BOOK. 


busy, but stingingly sharp in his vexation at our 
delay ; while Captain Standish, his opposite, 
walks moodily around, or wanders off by himself ; 
and when he is absent, Faire Rose Standish sits 
looking down in the water’s depths for hours, 
while Little Sunshine clings silently to her hand, 
or nestles in her bosom. 

My precious mother has fancied that Mrs. 
Allerton’s youngest child, Johnny, resembles 
David. It is a great comfort to her, and already 
they are choice friends, so that many a lonely 
hour has been filled for both. 

Perhaps I ought to be content amidst so many 
new, and ever-varying sights and sounds, never- 
theless, I am longing to set sail once more on the 
wide ocean, whose pulsing tide, sweeping up the 
arterial river, flowing in and out of this quiet 
harbor, reminds one of the mysterious sea be- 
yond, with its great throbbing heart that is never 
still, and I sigh once again to be on its heaving 
bosom. 


Speedwell^ Saturday^ Aug. 5. 
We unloosed the anchor this morn, unfurled 
the sails, and left England — will it be forever? 

Little by little the land disappeared, one by one 
80 


FAITJEO WHITENS EETTEM BOOK, 


the head-lands and light-houses, till we were past 
the Isle of Wight and its picturesque rocks, the 
Needles, and now, well out on the Channel, will 
perhaps see land no more till we greet New 
England. 

The time will no doubt appear tedious, though 
I think I can never tire of watching these foam 
tipped waves, the flickering of the sunlight on 
the sails and deck, and the foreign sailors in their 
strange costumes, or listening to their weird 
cries as they respond to orders : and we all enjoy 
the pleasant excitement of recognition, as the 
two boats approach, hail each other, and again 
recede. Already it seems as if the great busy 
world, with its roar and babble, had died away, 
and all of human life was concentrated in these 
two boats. 

Constantia Hopkins, a quaint, thoughtless 
child, said to her mother to-day, “ I think it 
would have been so much nicer, if in the time 
of the flood there had been two arks, so while 
they were sailing round all that long year, each 
would have had another ark to look at. But, 
after all, Noah’s children must have had a real 
good time playing with the tame animals, and 
looking at tlie lions and tigers ! ” 

81 


FATTB: WHITE’S ZETTEM BOOK. 


On being reminded that Shem, Ham and 
Japlietli, were men grown, with wives, she ex- 
pressed it as her settled opinion that “ It was a 
great pity if there were no little children in those 
days to go along and feed the birds, and play 
with the monkeys ! ’’ 

I had never thought of it before, but her 
strange ideas reminded me that it must have 
been a drearily long year, with this sad thought 
always pressed home to their consciousness, that, 
save them in the ark, eight souls, there was 
nothing more of human life in the once busy, 
thickly-peopled world. 

Mr. Brewster promised us an hour daily for 
Latin, when once we set sail on our bon voyage ^ 
as we hope it will be, so we began to-day and 
have completed the first fifty lines of the ^neid. 
I do not suppose we shall read so much every 
day, for we have been translating by ourselves 
since leaving Delft-Haven, and we must take into 
account the inevitable sea-sickness, which few 
suffer from this beautiful day of blue skies and 
smooth waters. 

It seemed so apropos to our propitious de- 
parture this morning, as we read Ik^w the joyful 
Trojans, escaping from Grecian fire and sword to 
82 


FAITH WHITF^S lETTFB BOOK, 


their predicted kingdom, spread their white sails 
to the favoring breeze, and tossed the foam of 
the salt sea with their brazen prows. May their 
after untoward fate not be typical of one to be. 

It is very sweet to think as we speed on, with 
but a plank between us and the ocean’s depths, 
that we are not subject to the whim of a capri- 
cious goddess, or driven by remorseless fate ; but 
are in the hands of a Father, more tender to us 
than was Juno of her beloved Carthage; who, all- 
good, as all-powerful, noticing even a sparrow’s 
fall, doth how much more watch over them “ that 
go down to the sea in ships.” 

Speedwell, Saturday, Aug 12. 

Once more, my Cariad, even so soon, are we 
approaching land — not our New England, but 
the Mother-Land, — having turned backward. 

Though twice trimmed at Southampton, our 
boat sprung aleak when about four days out, and 
as she could not be pumped sufficiently fast, 
Mr. Reynolds, tlie Ship-Master, said he dared go 
no farther, and that is why we are headed east- 
ward. 

We have had quite the usual amount of sea- 
sickness during our short voyage more than on 
83 


FAITH WHITENS ZEXTEE BOOK. 


the other boat, as the Speedwell rocks much 
worse, and some of the younger members of the 
company are quite as eagerly anxious for a wel- 
come sight of land, as they were a week ago to 
embark, from among whom I could not dare to 
exclude 

Your Mend, 

Faith White. 

Dartmouth Harbor^ Friday, Aug. 18. 

Five days ago we made this point, and spite of 
our dislike to turn back, we all were glad to 
tread again on mother-earth, — to step on the 
firm, white sea-sand, and the green grass that 
never before seemed half so bright to me. 

And indeed we trace the hand of a kind Provi- 
dence in our Ship-Master’s decision, for there was 
a loose plank, two feet long, in the ship’s side, 
where the water poured in freely ; and he says 
had we been out three or four hours longer, we 
must have sunk : so we may well feel, that this 
which seemed so contrary to us, is but another 
proof of the guiding care of God’s love to His 
little flock. 

Often doubting not God’s ability, but His dis- 
position to relieve. His children in the midst of 
84 


FAITH WtilTE^S lETTFB BOOK. 


their distresses, and wondering at His ways to- 
wards us, since meeting these believers from dif- 
ferent parts of England, one great mystery of 
Providence has been explained. 

It always seemed strange to me, that after we 
had sold all our earthly possessions at such sacri- 
fice, and were willing to steal away like criminals 
from our beloved country, going into a strange 
land, there to endure the poverty and trials that 
we knew must come upon us, for the sake of 
serving God, that He should permit us to be be- 
trayed, our little all snatched away, and our 
fathers, condemned without a hearing, to lie in 
prison for months ; and that He should give us 
courage to make a second trial, more desperate, 
and in some respects resulting even more dis- 
astrously, than the former, — all this has seemed 
as a virtual denial of God that we were His, 
that He has promised to be with us always ; and 
that our persecutors might well think that they 
were “ doing God service,” saying, “ See how 
even the Lord they claim on their side, had for- 
saken, and is punishing this deluded, fanatical 
people ! ” 

But lo! while the pitiless magistrates, laden 
with spoil, drove our friends to prison in the 
85 


FAITH WniTFAS IFTTFB BOOK. 


great city of Boston, and tlie jeering rabble 
followed, mocking ; while there they dragged out 
weary months, every pang and pain of their 
prison-life was a preacher of righteousness, to 
those who else had never had heard of our faith, 
and wondering they asked ‘‘ Who are* these ? 
And what have they done ? ” And thus, we are 
told, God has brought many in that place to a 
knowledge of the truth whereby all are made 
free in Christ Jesus. 

And while, after the second attempt, we women 
and children dragged ourselves along the weary 
moors near the city of Hull, mud-stained and 
wet with the cold dew of night, apparently aban- 
doned by God to the cruelty of cruel men, the 
utter helplessness of our condition won many 
warm hearts to our sinking cause, and as the 
abundant harvest of this bitterly sad sowing in 
tears, — not with hope — God has garnered many 
souls into the fulness of His kingdom, who 
already talk of emigrating to America, and may 
soon follow us. 

Verily, Faith White, the Lord God reigneth. 
How could you ever have doubted it for a mo- 
ment ? 

This is a picturesque little town, with the 
86 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEM BOOK. 


grotesquely-carved wooden houses, built like 
swallows nests in a sand-bank, on so steep a bill- 
side in some places, that the foundations of the 
bouses in the upper street are on a level with the 
chimney-pots of those on the street below, so 
that to pass from one street to another, we ascend 
long flights of stairs. It is an odd, though not 
unpleasant picture to our eyes after the level of 
the sea, and the monotony of Holland. 

On board, the idle sails, close furled that they 
may not toy with the favoring wind, hang by the 
side of the masts and spars, and the equally idle 
sailors lounge wearily round. Some on board 
the Mayflower are impatient, even fretfully so, 
complaining that they waited for us seven days at 
Southampton, and then, when after long delay 
we were ready to start the wind turned. Now 
we have come back and spent four more here, 
with no likelihood as yet of going, while a fair 
breeze blows, that once in a while furtively lifts a 
corner of one of the sails, and swells it out, as if 
to remind us how we ought at this moment to be 
speeding away — away. 


87 


FAITH WniTF’S ZFTTFB BOOK. 


Speedwell, Thursday, Aug. 24. 

And thus by the swift gliding of these beauti- 
ful days, with their fair winds, and serene skies, 
God teaches us. His restless children, patience 
tempered with thankfulness. 

And yet again we hasten towards the rosy 
west, with unfurled sails spreading welcoming 
arms to the breeze, hoping to be delayed no 
more. And again the days pass joyously, as we 
float beneath the azure sky, which seemeth to me 
a§ the hollow of God’s hand, on the blue deep 
below — like the depth of His infinite grace. 

We — Mary, Jasper, and I — have divided 
these days between Virgil, and watching the 
busy schools of fish that follow in the wake of 
ship, — huge porpoises, and mammoth grampus 
large as an ox, leaping out of the water. Yes- 
terday the sailors caught one of the latter, and 
hauled the great struggling creature on deck, 
where he floundered heavily around till he died. 
They gave us a part of it, and we found it a wel- 
come addition to our stale ship-diet. 

Besides these inimense fishes we often see 
beautiful little dolphins, leaping in all graceful 
curves and lines, flashing their rainbowed sides 
in the sunbeams, then darting away out of sight: 

8S 


FAITH WHITE’S lETTEB BOOK. 


and floating languidly on the water, the strangely 
beautiful carvel, called the Man-of-war by the 
Portuguese, because they resemble a war-ship 
with full-spread sails. 

Last night we sat on deck and watched the 
play of the moonbeams on the water, making it a 
vast expanse of liquid, tossing silver, lighting up 
the foam-crested waves as if set with myriads of 
diamonds, that flashed back bright glancj^s in 
response to the hundred twinklings of the stars, 
a scene so rare in beauty that I am sorry I tried 
to describe it to you ; and so fascinating, that I 
do not know but we should have gazed on it the 
livelong night had not our more prudent mother 
called us. 

Yes, even as I write, Paul calls, “ Come quick, 
and see the shark. Faith! ” so I must needs leave 
even you to run and take my fii’st look at this 
new monster. 


89 


CHAPTEE VIII. 

Plymouth^ Pnns;.^ Monday, Sept, 4. 

S EE ARY — dreary — sad and dreary, even 
here in this quiet harbor with the wel-^ 
come sight of green fields where “the 
singing of birds is lieard in the land.’’ 

I cannot write to-day of perfect peace flowing 
like a river, for all is tumult and confusion as 
here we find ourselves, six weeks after leaving 
Leyden, beaten back again on English soil, pre- 
paring to leave our boat, the Speedwell, — what 
a misnomer that was ! — as unsea worthy ; that is 
the ostensible reason given by the Captain, but 
we have not tlie charity to believe that all is as it 
should be. The Captain of the Mayflower, who 
has waited so long and so many times for us, 
having gone with us in our shuttle-cock move- 
ments, says it was determined upon by the Speed- 
well officers and crew that she should leak ; that 

90 


FAITU WIIITB>S ZETTBjR BOOK. 


they pressed her with too much sail, so as to 
sti’aiii the seams, and make the boat leak, by this 
trick gaining an excuse to forfeit the engagement 
they had made to spend a year with us after we 
get to America, fearmg that on account of our 
many delays our stock of provisions was getting 
low. 

Be that as it may, we leave the Speedwell now, 
and a part of our company, among whom are 
Mr. Cushman and many others that we had 
learned to love, about twenty in all ; a few of 
whom were discouraged and fearful, but most of 
them remaining, because being burdened with 
large families of cloildren, it was deemed better 
that they should be the ones to stay. 

As fast as possible the ill-fated Speedwell is 
being unladen ; and heavily loaded, with cabins so 
crowded that whatever be the weather, some will 
have to sleep on deck, the IMayflower is to go 
alone. It must be all for the best ; we have not 
deserved one of our mnumerable mercies, and 
shall we receive good at the liands of the Lord, 
and shall we not receive evil ? Yet these 
many new discouragements are very trying to the 
weak faith of Faith White, who only a few days 
since was wondering tliat she could ever have 
91 


FAITH WHIIJE>S IFTTEJt BOOK, 


doubted God’s providence, and felt fully assured 
that she should never again do so. 

Mary said the other day, as after a long confer- 
ence between the officers of the boats and our 
men, we finally “ talked about ” and headed for 
England the third time, — “ Yii’gil seems to be 
the only thing in which we do not go back- 
wards ; ” for amidst all our vicissitudes and dis- 
couragements, we have at least progressed rapid- 
ly in our Latin reading. 

Jasper has been drawing for our amusement a 
funny parallel between the “ wandering Trojans 
tossed seven years on all seas, whilst they should 
found a kingdom and bear the gods to Latium,” 
and ourselves. He said, ‘‘ It is very comforting 
to think we. have but six years and ten months 
more of similiar trials to look forward to ! ’** 

Little Constantia Hopkins, standing near by, 
answered gravely with wide open eyes, ‘‘I think 
that’s a great, long while, Jasper! Why, I shall 
be fifteen years old then 1 ” 

Jasper calls his father the “pious iEneas,” 
himself “ the loved Ascanius,” and Mr. Carver, 
not without reason, does love his adopted son, 
with almost the same devotion that JEneas is said 


92 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


to have felt for his boy, — The sole care of this 
fond parent centers on Ascanius.” 

Mr. Bradford, Mr. Carver’s right hand man, 
represents the ‘‘ faithful Achates,” and Captain 
Standish is “ dauntless Cloanthus.” Plymouth 
is supposed to be Carthage on the shores of 
Libya, where Dido succored the perishing, ship- 
wrecked voyagers, and through the interposition 
of the gods, feasted and entertained them, and in 
this respect Jasper’s comparison holds good, for 
we have received abundant hospitality from God’s 
kindly hearted people in this .goodly town. 

It is no doubt best to amuse ourselves in any 
harmless way we can, for this hope deferred 
presseth us sore, — this new parting is very 
bitter, and few of our company will start again, 
late as it is in the season with so much to dread 
from storms, with the cheerful, high-beating 
hearts of each time before. 

Some days previous to our last backward 
movement, Paul confided to me that he had 
settled his mind on being a sailor, — a Master of 
course, he did not think of commencing at the 
lowest round of cabin boy, or deck hand, and 
climbing up, — and wanted to know if I would 
not like to travel back to England and Holknd 
93 


FAITH WHUFFS IETTEH BOOK. 


in a few years on liis boat, — none of your leaky, 
go-to-pieces Speedwells, but the fast-sailing, well- 
manned Faith White ! 

“ I had thought of naming my boat for Pa- 
tience,” he said, she is such a favorite of mine 
and would like the honor so much, but I have 
concluded thas it is not a good name for a ship, 
unless she is a. heavy, slow-going sure sort of a 
brig, just such a boat as I do not care to be mas- 
ter of. He added that not one of his officers 
should be wicked and profane, but Puritans, all 
keeping the Sabbath, and that the sailors should 
be God fearing men, too, making it in every 
* respect a model vessel. “ Will you not bo 
proud,” he asked, “ to sit like a queen on the 
deck, clean as can be, scoured white as snow, and 
hear me called ‘ Captain White,’ and see how my 
officers and men love and obey me ? ” 

But to-day while we were strolling round 
Plymouth Town, Paul said he believed when once 
he set foot in America he could never be tempted 
to cross the wide ocean again, even if he should 
be the Captain of the best ship in the world, and 
his sister Faith thinks so too for herself. 


91 


FAXm WSITF^S LETTER BOOK. 

Mayflower, Saturday, October 21. 

It has indeed been a dreary while since I have 
written to you, my Cariad, — if measured as it 
seems to me in reviewing it, I scarce could count 
the weeks. In all this while have you missed 
anything out of your life ? For I have not had 
time to think of, or pray for you as I did once ; 
and now I have so much of which to write, I 
hardly know where to commence to take up the 
scattered threads of my life and weave them into 
narration. 

And yet it is the same old story of gala days 
and fair winds, of sunshine and warmth for a 
little while, then of rough seas, of sickness and 
suffering, and finally — 0, the horror of these 
storms at sea ! After whole days of adverse 
winds, when our ship was unable to spread any 
sail, yet even then, scudding under bare poles, 
and we were driven far out of our course, then 
came a storm such as I have no words to de- 
scribe. The skies became of an inky blackness, 
while the wind howled, and shrieked like a 
crazed demon through the rigging. One mo- 
ment we rode on the crest of a mountain-wave, 
the next, with such strainings of the overloaded 
ship as seemed must break her in pieces, we 
95 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEE BOOK. 


plunged headlong in the trough of the sea, only 
to mount again and repeat the dreadful scene. 

When at times before, I had been on deck and 
quite a stiff gale was blowing, I had thought that 
Virgils description of ^olus, king of the winds, 
pricking with his revolving spear the hollow 
mountain side, in whose vast caverns raged the 
chained winds seeking exit, and their fiercely, 
impetuous rushing forth, as if in formed battal- 
ions, sweeping over land and sea, was grand and 
sublime. 

But when to the horrors of such a tempest 
and blackness of darkness without, is added the 
terror of sick children within the crowded cabin, 
and the danger as we were tossed* back and forth 
with every mad leap of the reeling vessel, you 
can faintly conceive a little of the confusion and 
distress. 

Again and again with different varieties of 
intensity has that scene been repeated, till our 
ship gaped with seams, and a great beam amid- 
ships was so bent and cracked, that a council 
was held with the ship’s officers, whether to go 
on or turn back again, but by God’s good provi- 
dence, — and God has indeed been good to us, 
‘‘ So comfortable ! ” as good-wife Brewster says, — 
96 


FAITH WHITE’S TETTER BOOK. 


Mr. Bradford had brought a large iron screw 
with him from Holland, and by use of that it 
was forced into place. 

Now it is getting so late in the season, and 
consequently cold, and so weary are all of this 
stormy, tedious passage, that it has been decided 
not to wait to seek for the entrance of the 
“ Goodly Hudson,” of which we have heard and 
talked so much, and so often since we started 
traced on the map, but to put into the first har- 
bor that seems safe and commodious. 

‘‘ And there was no more sea” is said of the 
Better Country. At first, in our golden days of 
fair winds, swift sailing and blue skies, it seemed 
to me a pity to lose the great, mysterious sea ; 
sad, that when the glorious Lord will be unto 
us a place of broad rivers and streams,” that 
there “ shall go no galley with oars, neither shall 
gallant ship pass thereby.” But now the ocean 
is to me as a cruel monster of hungry unrest, 
crying, “ Give, give, give ! ” and will not be 
satisfied. 

Little Sunshine, who has been suffering much 
from sea-sickness, said to-day, “ Mother Kose, 
don’t you wish Jesus was somewhere asleep on 
this ship, so that we could go and wake Him, and 
97 


W4TTTT WHITENS LETTEJR BOOK. 


He would get right up and say, ‘Peace, be 
still ! ’ It would be so nice to have a great calm, 
and see the sun shine again, I think.” 

Mary Alliston, an older sister of mother’s pet 
Johnny, came to me to-day, as after a little lull the 
wind began to blow again, and the ship to rock, 
her large eyes full of tears, and the hopeless, sea- 
sick look settling on her face and drawing heavy 
lines around her mouth. “ I’m tired of this 
ship!” she said, with a quiver of lip and working 
of cheek, “when shall we go off? How many 
days ? ” and when I answered, “ O, not but a 
few, perhaps twenty ; ” she asked with the same 
tremor of lip and face, drooping lashes and drip- 
ping tears, “ How many are twenty ? ” till my 
soul was sick and weary within me, thinking how 
many they would be, and I longed for the wings 
of a dove, to take her in my arms, to fly far 
beyond the sight and sound of the wild sea-waves, 
and be at rest. 

For our comfort in this fear and tribulation, 
Mr. Brewster, and others who experienced it, 
have been telling us what we have again and 
again heard but never before so fully realized, of 
the terrible storm they encountered when on 
their way to Amsterdam, that raged fourteen 


FAITS WHITENS EE T TEE BOOK, 


days, during seven of which they saw neither 
sun, moon, nor stars. Compared with that, our 
danger and trial have been light ; and yet they, 
in their great distress, mindful of God’s power 
and willingness, when the water ran in their ears 
and mouth, and the terrified sailors cried, “ We 
sink ! we sink ! ” called to God in the height of 
faith, “ Yet Lord, Thou canst save ! ” and so, 
at length. He brought them safely to their de- 
sired haven. 

We have all been reading Jonah’s sad history, 
and each one inquiring earnestly of his own 
heart and life, whether it was for his own sake 
that “the sea wrought and was tempestuous.” 
The midnight storm on Galilee has been another 
favorite portion of Scripture, and we verily be- 
lieve that Jesus is here with us on the ship, not 
asleep, and not unmindful of our anguish, but 
teaching us to trust in Him, even to walk over 
the waves to Him as did Peter on another occa- 
sion, fearing not, doubting not, only believing. 

Mayflower^ Monday^ Nov, 6. 

A burial at sea ! could anything be more sad ? 
This morning William Butler died, a boy. Hr. 
Fuller’s servant, but loved by my good uncle as 
99 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEB BOOK. 


his own son. He has been ill a long while, at 
first very sea-sick, and then a fever set in ; but he 
was a good boy, ready to die, and not afraid of 
the dark valley, for he trusted in Jesus who died 
for him. 

I don’t think I have written you of one burial 
we had before this. There was a sailor on board, 
a very healthy, but profane and wicked young 
man, who seemed to take delight in wickedness, 
making himself merry over the poor and scant 
possessions of some of us. Again and again in 
the pride of life, in his strength and vigor that 
seemed to defy all sickness, would he rave and 
swear whenever he saw the wan, pallid face of 
sea-sick passengers, expressing a hope that he 
might cast half of us overboard, ere we came to 
our journey’s end ; and the gentlest reproof for 
such an awful wish, brought only a fresh storm 
of curses and ravings. But before the voyage 
was half over, he was struck down with serious 
disease, and unprepared, and unreconciled to 
God, his soul went up to the judgment seat of 
of Christ, and he himself was the first to be cast 
overboard, a swift punishment, that for a time at 
least, struck home terror to the hearts and con- 


100 


FAITS WSITE^S ZETTEJR BOOK, 


sciences of his fellow sailors, who saw in it God’s 
speedy avenging hand. 

William’s body was laid in a hammock, then 
wrapped in sacking with shot and heavy weights, 
and after an impressive service conducted by Mr. 
Brewster, lowered into the sea, and the waves 
parted over it, and it went down, — down into 
the depths. I was so glad when the hungry, 
eager water closed over it, for a great shark, with 
cruel, greedy eyes, has been following in the 
ship’s wake, at intervals, for days. Is it not 
strange and horrible tlmt these fearful creatures, 
will continually pursue a ship when there is 
serious sickness on board, and so be ready to 
seize and devour the dead body as soon as it is 
lowered into the water ? 

It seems so unutterably dreadful to me to be 
buried in the sea; to have ones body forever 
fretted and tossed by the chafing sea-waves, when 
it should be at utter rest, that to-day, for the first 
time, though I have long been resigned to God’s 
will, that did not permit our darlings to undergo 
the hardships and perils of this voyage, — I felt 
that I could thank our Father from a full heart 
for the dear, green graves in the Leyden church- 
yard, where the birds sing £md the grass grows 
101 


FAITH WHITE >8 IE T TER BOOK, 


green over the bodies of our loved ones, that 
shall sleep undisturbed till He who is the Resur- 
rection and the Life, shall call them forth like 
Himself all glorious. 

And yet, after all, no doubt poor William — I 
ought rather to call him happy William — is rest- 
ing as peacefully and painlessly in the many 
mansions, as if his body had been committed to 
the cherishing bosom of earth, to be held in 
sacred trust till Christ should wake it from its 
sweet repose. 

About two weeks ago •^e had another striking 
instance of God’s watchful love over us. Mr. 
John Howland, going on deck at one time during 
a heavy storm, by a sudden lurch of the vessel, 
was thrown overboard, but as he fell caught hold 
of the topsail halliards hanging over the ship’s 
side at great length, and clung to it though he 
sunk far under water. By means of these ropes 
they dragged him to the surface, and using a 
boat-hook, with much danger and difficulty, 
owing to the high waves, and tossing of the ship, 
he was brought on board ere life was extinct, so 
that by use of means, God ultimately restored 
him to us. 

It is very strange, but he says during the little 
102 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK, 


while that he was in the water, all his past life 
came to him as if it had been pictured and 
spread out before him, perfect in every minute 
particular, — every act, word, and thought, — 
yet all the time he was crying unto himself the 
wail of David, Deep calleth unto deep at the 
noise of thy waterspouts : all thy waves and thy 
billows are gone over me.” 

Mayflower^ Thursday^ November 9. 

Land ho ! land ho ! was the shrill cry that 
awakened the Mayflower passengers this morn- 
ing. 

After having been out of sight of land for 
more than sixty days, — it is sixty-six days 
since we left Plymouth, — you can imagine a 
little how welcome was the cry, and how quickly 
we dressed and ran out on deck, the sick all well 
again, the old as eager and delighted as the 
yomig, and feasted our sea-weary eyes on the 
beauty of the coast, where the forests, leafless 
now, come down to the water’s edge, lighted up 
with radiant beauty in the beams of the rising 
sun, shining on the branches covered with dia- 
monds of frost work. 

No words can do justice to our ecstasy of de- 

103 


FAITS WSITE^S LETTER BOOK, 


light ; there was a perfect April shower of patter- 
ing talk, and dropping tears, as we wept, em- 
braced each other, laughed and gave thanks, — 
our long, sad voyage forgotten in the brightness 
of its ending. 

But the ship headed southward in search of 
the oft-talked-of Hudson’s river, and with a sigh 
of regret, we left the enchanted spot behind, to 
be again entangled in shoals and breakers, and 
beaten by pitiless waves, till we were glad to turn 
back again, towards what seems an earthly para- 
dise to me — land — land anywhere, barren, 
rocky, and even a desert waste, if so it be moth- 
er-earth ; and not the cruel, treacherous sea. 

Mayflower^ Cape Cod Harbor^ Sat., Nov. 11. 

A party went on shore to-day, but before we 
landed, so that we might commence life in these 
wilds with perfect concord and agreement, — to 
which all have not always seemed inclined, — 
the whole of the passengers met in the great 
cabin, and all the men signed the following 

COMPACT. 

‘‘In the name of God, Amen. We whose 
names are vnderwritten, the loyall Subjects of 

104 


FAITH WHITE’S TETTER BOOK. 


onr dread Sovereign Lord King James, by the 
grace of God of Great Britian, France, and Ire- 
land, King, Defender of the Faith, etc. 

“ Having undertaken for the glory of God, and 
advancement of the Christian Faith, and honour 
of our King and Country, a Voyage to plant the 
first Colony in the Northern parts of Virginia, 
do by these presents solemnly and mutually in 
the presence of God and of one another, covenant 
and combine ourselves together into a civill body 
politike, for our better ordering and preservation, 
and furtherance of the ends aforesaid; and by 
vertue hereof to enact, constitute, and frame 
such just and equal Laws, Ordinances, acts, 
constitutions, officers from time to time, as shall 
be thought most meet and convenient for the 
general good of the Colony ; unto which we ‘ 
promise all due submission and obedience. In 
witness whereof we have here under subscribed 
our names. Cape, Cod eleventh of November, in 
the years of the reigne of our sovereign Lord 
King James of England, France and Ireland 
eighteen, and of Scotland fifty-four. Anno 
Domini, sixteen hundred and twenty.” 

It was a very solemn sight. Governor Car- 
ver — as I must hereafter call him, for he was 
105 


faith: whitens eetter book. 


chosen Governor of the Colony — sat by the 
table with an anxious, care-worn face, as if he 
felt that his hands were too weak to hold up the 
burden they must carry ; and I knew that Mrs. 
Carver had retired somewhere by herself to 
thank God with proud love for her husband, that 
he had been deemed worthy to be called to so 
responsible a position, and to beg the All-Power- 
ful to bestow of His strength to him as he should 
have need. _ 

Jasper stood back leaning on Dr. Fuller’s 
shoulder; — he and the Doctor are great friends, 
— looking on delighted, and proudly fond of his 
good father. Jasper is such a strange boy, so 
eager and earnest to be a grown man, that he 
may take his full share with other men in these 
life-battles just before us. 

But just then he had that weird, prescient look 
in his deep, far-seeing eyes, that comes over him 
when he says he is “ reading the future,” — so 
troubled and sad, yet so beautiful. He has a 
noble heart, — God make that future very bright 
for him ! 

Elder Brewster, the spiritual Father and shep- 
herd of our little flock, stood at Governor Car- 
ver’s right hand, and after the Compact was 
106 


faith: whitens ietteb book. 


signed by all, in a prayer that seemed to take 
hold of the very throne, he begged God to bless 
as His own, so far as it accorded with the divine 
will and glory, this vine about to be planted in 
the wilderness, that it might indeed be a branch 
of the True Vine, abiding in Christ, and par- 
taking of His Spirit, and that we might have 
within us, each one, that gracious spirit, which 
is first pure, then peaceable and undefiled, 
abounding in good works unto God. 

Masters Winslow and Bradford stood near with 
resolute, prayerful faces, as if ready in God’s 
strength to dare and endure all they may yet be 
called upon to do and sufier, in the uncertain 
future. 

Not far from them was my own dearest father, 
with a grave, serene look on his noble face, 
which at that moment struck me as liaving 
grown old and careworn. My heart gave such a 
sharp throb of pain, as I recalled how much of 
sickness, death, anxiety, and sorrow, had been 
poured into his cup during the past few months, 
yet, how uncomplainingly he liad pressed it to 
his lips, saying, “ Not my will, but Thine be 
done,” and drank it to the bitter dregs. My 
own dearest father ! Every silver thread in his 
107 


FAITH WHITENS EETTEM BOOK. 


black hair reminds me that he is growing old, 
and I must be a stay, and prop to him — even I 
his weak little daughter. 

Mother sat with her pet in her lap, and Con- 
stantia Hopkins at her side, trying to explain to 
the curious child what was being done. Near 
her sat Mrs. Winslow, her sweet spiritual face 
lighted up with a great glow of peace and joy, 
that made one think involuntarily of the passage, 

Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose 
mind is stayed on thee.” 

Captain Standish, though small in stature, stood 
so defiantly erect, with such a warlike air, that 
he seemed fully six feet in height ; and he signed 
his name — I half expected to see him do it with 
the point of his sword — with as much fierceness 
as he would have used that trusty weapon on a 
deadly foe. 

Rose Standish sat near with Little Sunshine at 
her knee, looking, for perhaps the hundredth 
time at the curious pictures and illumined letters 
in a very old Bible — a family heir-loom. 

Mrs. Bradford, whose ever sad face, fascinates 
me with its mournfulness, so different from the 
beaming cheerfulness of Mrs. Winslow’s coun- 
tenance, sat back in the shadow of a recess, her 
108 


FAITH WHJTF^S I^TTEM BOOK. 


head bowed on her hand as if in silent prayer, 
while the tears fell fast beneath the long lashes : 
she was thinking, no doubt of “ My boy ” left 
behind, and as I looked at her, sad thoughts 
filled my mind of our beloved left behind, too — 
perhaps I should say gone before us, whom we 
are trying to overtake. 

Not far from her, Goodwife Brewster, with a 
face beaming with motherly love and patience, 
stood holding a cup containing some article of 
food for a sick person, and all forgetful of her 
object, was saying to herself “ The Lord’s name 
be praised ! The Lord bless us evermore ! ” 

This is such a beautiful, quiet harbor, almost 
circled by land, and abounding in strange fish 
and fowl, with whales so plenty that when the 
glad children — glad because our trials by storm 
and sea seem over — cry, “ There she blows ! ” 
nobody runs to get a sight at the monster. I 
believe that, among the • children, at least, Jonah 
is the most read and best understood book in the 
Bible, and since they have seen a veritable whale, 
they all stand greatly in awe of his sad fate. 

Soon after the Compact was signed, a boat 
went on shore for wood and water, and the party 
have just returned bringing favorable reports of 
109 


FAITS WHIl^^S ZFTTEJR BOOK. 

the land, which they say, seems to be • only a 
narrow neck from the mainland. They saw no 
inhabitants, and they brought back for fuel a 
kind of wood called Juniper, fragrant and sweet. 

My old dream of homes awaiting us in these 
forests, that have seemed to grow more and more 
a cruel fancy, comes back again to me since we 
have neared the land, and every movement of 
the waving houghs of the dark, varied evergreens 
on the shore, is to me as the beckoning of eager, 
tremulous fingers, inviting and urging us to 
come and take possession — to abide in peace 
under their calm, protecting shadow. 

So, at last, without “ seven years of tossing on 
high seas,” we seem to have realized what ^Eneas 
promised, when, on the Libyan shore, rescued 
from shipwreck, after reminding his faithful com- 
panions, that in their fated past they had not 
been ignorant of suffering, he said, “ God will 
also give to these calamities an end.” 

With a firmer trust in a higher Divinity, and 
unfailing Word, we feel that here, on tliis New 
England shore, our trials by land and sea may 
perchance have come to a perpetual end. 


110 


CHAPTEE IX 


(h 





Mayflower^ Cape Cod Harbor^ 

. Saturday, Nov. 18. 

Y Cariad ; — I don’t know how it 
happened, for I had never confided 
even to Patience about these letters 
to you, my imaginary Friend, for I knew she 
would embrace me, and say with a gay laugh, — 
“ You are such a dear, little romantic ray of 
moonshine!” — though of the two, I think Pa- 
tience is far moi:e poetic and imaginative. 

Nor had I said a word to Mary Chilton, when 
she wondered what I could be writing so much 
for, and questioningly surmised it was a long 
epistle to that same darling Patience, which I 
must begin to write some day. But to-day, 
almost before I knew it, and without any mten- 
tion of doing so, I told Jasper. I was very sorry 
for a moment after, for it seemed as if a great 
part of the pleasure lay in its being an utter 


FAITH WHITENS ZEXTEM BOOK. 


secret, — meum et tuum^ — and, too, I was half 
afraid he would laugh at the absurdity of my 
peuuiug such long letters to some one I did not 
know, — some myth of my own fanciful imagina- 
tion. Though I shall always contend it is quite 
as sensible, and to me far more pleasant and 
social, than writing in a Diary for myself, what I 
myself already know. 

But instead of sneering and laughing, — I 
might have known he would not do either, — 
Jasper encouraged me, and said he thought it 
was a good idea, and he was sure I would some 
day find my expected Cariad, — I told him also 
what I had christened you, — for whom I had 
thoughtfully been preparing a Letter Book, and 
that we would read it together, you and I, and 
thus you would know more of my past, real life 
than I could even tell you, even more than if 
you had been always with me ; for he said we all 
lived two lives, — an inner one to ourselves and 
God, and an outer one to our friends and the 
world, — and I know that we do not generally, or 
often, speak our deepest, most earnest thoughts 
to our choicest and best friends. 

Then, after saying it would be veiy grateful to 
any of us, to meet in coming years, some one 
112 


FA ITS WSITE’S ZETTEB BOOK. 


who should say joyfully, “ I have long been ex- 
pectant of you, — I have long looked for you ! 
Welcome, thrice welcome, art thou; read this 
and see with what confidence I have awaited 
your coming ! ” 

Jasper added, that he thought he knew who 
you were, but he might be mistaken and so 
would not tell me just now. 

I have not the remotest idea whom he means, 
but since he has promised at some future time to 
give you a real name, my Cariad, I feel that I 
have a new claim on you, that you have grown 
dearer, and drawn nearer to me ; yea, that I can 
almost clasp your warm hand, and feel the beat- 
ing of your heart, as I sit here writing, rocked by 
the sleepy tide in this harbor of rest. 

Jasper is such a good boy, so obedient and 
childlike in honoring his father, so chivalric and 
studiously devoted to his mother, that when, he 
keeps her on deck — slie is unusually feeble 
now — or, ever watchful of opportunity, performs 
any service for her, I think of the brave Knights 
of the olden time, in the days of the Crusades, 
of Chevalier Bayard “ without fear and without 
reproach.” 

And, too, he guards Little Sunsliine, his. sister, 
113 


FAJTS WniIJE>S LETTEU BOOK. 


and his own orphan brothers, with such kindness 
and affection, that I am always wishing I had an 
older brother like Jasper Carver, to care thus for 
my father and mother, and to whom I could look 
up with pride and love as do his brothers and 
sister. Not that Paul is anything but the best 
and dearest brother that ever was or could be, 
but being younger than I he comes for counsel 
and aid to me, who am so little able to direct 
him wisely. 

Three days ago, sixteen men all armed to the 
teeth with musket, sword, and corselet, under the 
leadership of Captain Standish, started off into 
the interior to see if this were a suitable place 
for a permanent landing. Of course we felt very 
anxious as to their safety while absent, but they 
all returned safely yesterday with tales of adven- 
tures to which we listen with much interest. 

They had not advanced in single file more 
than a mile from the s^a, watching every step 
carefully for fear of an ambuscade, when they 
saw five or six savages with a dog ; the Indians 
soon espied them, and at once ran into the woods, 
whistling the dog in after them. Our men fol- 
lowed in pursuit for about ten miles, then, build- 
ing fires, camped for the night under the canopy 

114 


FAITU WHITE’S EETTEM BOOK, 

of the starry heavens, having posted sentinels to 
warn them of danger. The next day they con- 
tumed to pursue the savages, but did not over- 
take them. However, in one place in their 
march thej found what, after digging in one, 
they supposed were graves made in the sand, 
containing bones and decayed arrows ; these they 
carefully replaced and covered up again, not 
wishing to anger them by disturbing their dead. 

Further on they found a corn-field where corn 
had been raised the past summer, and a place 
where a house had been, near which they dis- 
covered a great kettle, evidently of European 
manufacture, and close by in a heap of sand, a 
large basket full of corn. They brought the 
corn to the ship to keep for seed, intending to 
pay the Indian owners for it at the first oppor- 
tunity. Although we have seen some before, it 
is still a great curiosity, being entirely different 
from any other grain, — wheat, rye, barley, or 
oats. 

It grows in straight, regular rows of dense 
kernels, packed closely together and encircling a 
hard, white substance which the men call a cob, 
and totally unlike anything in nature that I have 
ever before seen. Some of the corn is red, some 


115 


li'A ITTT W1B[TTE>S JjETJUEB, BOOK, 


yellow, and some blue, while many ears are a 
mixture of the three colors ; and it is so beauti- 
ful and wonderful — though my description may 
not make it seem so to you — that the children 
are all begging for it to play with, not realizing 
that it is much too precious to use in that way. 

Mr. Bradford has been telling us of other 
things ; of the wild strawberry vines, and walnut 
trees, laden with nuts, a few of which they 
brought to the ship ; of the deer and game, wild 
geese, ducks and partridges, and of plentiful 
living springs of water, till we are ready to be- 
lieve, as Goodwife Brewster cried out, “ Yerily, 
God hath led us to a land flowing with milk and 
honey.” 

Constantia Hopkins, who is very literal, an- 
swered, “We can^t have milk without cows, as I 
see, and who is going to catch the bees to make 
the honey ? ” 

We are waiting here for our shallop to be re- 
paired, so that they can safely coast the Bay in a 
longer voyage of discovery ; but most of the men 
and boys, and some women, to wash, have been 
on shore in the long boat: and Mary Chilton, 
with her usual promptness has the honor of 


116 


FAITS MriUTE’S LETTEE BOOK. 


being the first woman to set foot on the soil of 
our new home. 

Jasper and Paul have brought me three kinds 
of late wild flowers from the woods ; one of a 
purple color looks something like a stunted Ger- 
man Aster ; the other, Dr. Fuller, who is quite a 
botanist, calls Golden Kod ; it is of a bright 
yellow at the top, but partly dead and faded 
below. The last and prettiest is a cluster of 
round,’white buds, yellowish in the center, with 
the stem dry, but the flowers are as fresh and 
white as if just picked. 

I have pressed, and carefully laid by these first 
tokens of the beauties of this goodly country we 
call home, and if no more flowers comes before 
our Mayflower sails back, I shall divide them 
with Patience, who will doubtless value them 
even more highly than myself. 

They say the song-birds have all flown south, 
except a few cheerful little snow-birds ; the but- 
terflies have died or hidden away — I wonder 
where they do go to ! — and of course the sleep- 
ine: flowers and leaf-buds are secreted in the 
kindly bosom of earth, till the yearly resurrection 
shall waken them to a new life ; so we will have 


117 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEM BOOK, 


to possess our souls in patience, till conies the 
spring again and they with it. 

Mayflower^ Tuesday^ November 21. 

Yesterday many of us again went on shore, to 
do some washing which was much needed, think- 
ing also to refresh our ship-weary feet by treading 
again on land — the land of our adoption ; but 
being so long accustomed to the motion of the 
boat we could scarcely walk at all. Besides it 
has grown very cold and stormy within a few 
days, the water freezes in our clothing, and spite 
of the huge fires we could well afford to have in 
this thickly wooded country, we suffered much 
on shore and in going to and from the ship, on 
account of the bitter cold, so that even I, like 
Noah’s dove, that found no rest for the sole of 
her foot and returned unto the ark, was glad to 
go on board the crowded ship again, and, I real- 
ize now, that I have begun to look upon and love 
the Mayflower with all its discomforts as a home, 
and shall feel sorry to leave it when we finally 
disembark. * 


118 


CHAPTER X. 


M 


Mayflower y Thursday^ November 20. 

Y Own Cariad ; — I have something 
completely joyful to tell you. 


so 


^ “ This cruel, treacherous sea,’’ as I 
once impatiently called it, is a darling old body 
of water after all, for I have a baby brother born 
upon it, with eyes as blue as the Atlantic on a 
calm day, or the azure skies bending above it. 
He is a timid, white-winged sea-bird, that has 
fluttered hither from some summer region, and 
nestled in the warmth of my mother’s arms, to 
gladden and fill her empty heart, so lonely since 
David beloved was called away. 

How good it was in God to send us this dar- 
ling child to love, and to give him birth on the 
ocean, that I might after all my wayward mur- 
murings at this rough sea, have one precious 
token whereby to remember it kindly ! What a 
119 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK, 

sweet reproof, and gentle plea for the blue Atlan- 
tic, will his blue eyes always be to me ! 

Paul is equally delighted with myself, and, 
after much careful reconsideration, has again 
concluded to be Captain White and take Pere- 
grine as his First Mate in the same vessel ; cousin 
Samuel Fuller is to be Second Mate or Ship 
Surgeon, as he chooses, — and when he is wealthy 
and old, Paul is to become an honored, retired 
Sea Captain, and hand the still staunch boat — the 
Faith White — over to his younger brother. 

Dear Mary is as pleased, and little envious of 
my happiness, as if she had not been wishing for 
a younger brother or sister all her life long — did 
I ever tell you she was the only living child of her 
family? She has commenced some very elabo- 
rate embroidery for the baby’s adornment, and 
says till that is done the little savages will have 
to wait for the clothes she was intending to make 
for them, for we are thinking to carry out Pa- 
tience’s enthusiastic plans in behalf of the little 
Indian children, and have talked much of our 
future zealous missionary labor. But now I am 
quite sure the winter will be gone ere Mary will 
call on me to do my allotted sliare of the work 
— cut and fit the dresses. 


120 


faith: whitens zetiee book. 


Little Sunshine, strange to say, stands quite in 
awe of our pink and white stranger, but Johnny 
Allerton, mother’s pet, is very eager to make his 
complete acquaintance, to “ hold the baby ” and 
“ see his feet,” and considers it the highest possi- 
ble felicity and honor, to “ rock the cradle,” — 
Dr. Fuller’s family-cradle, that my poor uncle 
brought to remind him of the darling boy he left 
in Leyden, and in which our darling now lies 
asleep. 

Constantia Hopkins, who cannot forget Jas- 
per’s startling theory of our roaming on all seas 
for seven years, after the manner of the ill-fated 
Trojans, has been rejoicing that our ocean-born 
birdling will be large enough to play, and have 
great romps with her, long before we leave the 
ship. There are not many small children on 
board, and almost all are still weak and listless 
from long-continued sea-sickness, so this acces- 
sion to their number is hailed with delight. 
Constantia was rejoiced above measure at her 
own little puny, baby brother, born while we 
were in mid-ocean during those dreadful days of 
storm. He was a frail little ocean-bird, — they 
named him Oceanus in commemoration of his 
birth place, thougli we all call him ‘‘ Petrel,” — 
121 


FAITH WHITENS ZETTEJt BOOK. 


and every day we have looked to see him die, — 
to find his wings and fly away. When day after 
day he suffered such agony that it did not seem 
possible he could live from one hour to another, 
death seemed so much better as a sweet release 
from pain and sorrow, that I could not help won- 
dering at their unsubmissiveness, — but now — 
0, 1 cannot bear even -the thought of death, and 
a watery grave for our loved one, — I would 
keep him at all cost. 

And yet, poor child ! amidst all our rejoicings, I 
cannot help thinking that with such a cordon of 
welcoming and loving hearts and hands encircling 
him, even with God above, to love and guard 
him as we cannot, he has come to a sad and 
dreary world. Still, spite of this conviction, I 
cling to him, and my heart to-day is like a sing- 
ing-bird upon the wing, while over-riding all 
fear and anxiety, comes this glad, ever-present 
thought, — I have a darling little brother, and 
his name is Peregrine White. 

Mayflower, Friday, Dec. 1. 

All our men came in late last night, foot-sore 
and so exhausted, from their second discovery, 
with a large supply of corn, full ten bushels, 
122 


JFAITS WMITE^S LETTEjR BOOK, 


besides wheat and beans, and a new kind of 
grain, that we call Indian wheat ; and they tell 
many tales of what tliey have seen that are won- 
derful to hear. 

But they suffered much from cold, as a severe 
winter tempest overtook them, so that some of 
the party, who were too weak to go on, returned 
two days ago. They found frequent Indian 
graves, and abandoned houses made with young 
saplings bent, both ends being stuck in the 
ground, and covered with .the bark of trees, or 
mats made of rushes. In them, as in some of 
the graves they opened, thinking they might be 
heaps of sand contahiing corn, they found many 
bowls, trays and dishes, and various trinkets; 
also woven baskets, curiously wrought with black 
and wliite in pretty patterns, some of which they 
brought to the ship ; but for all of the things 
they will pay the Indians when they can. 

So we are together again in safety, one hun- 
dred and three in all, counting the last and least, 
our darling baby-boy, who seems a strong, healthy 
child ; but many are so ill from exposure to the 
cold, that we fear the result, only that wo are in 
the hands of God who doeth all things well. 

My letters gi’ow shorter and shorter, but we 
123 




FAJTS WHITE>S ZETTEM BOOK. 


that are well have so much to do, in cooking, and 
nursing the feeble, that I can write no more, — 
indeed I scarcely feel like writing at all in such a 
dreary hospital, surrounded by so many sick 
friends, and, too, it seems like throwing the 
shadow of our gloomy days on your heart also 
— your dear heart, my Cariad, whose name I do 
not yet know, but whose lines are drawn in more 
pleasant places than ours I would fam believe. 

Mayflower y Tuesday, Dec. 5. 

I am striving to understand God’s wondrous 
ways, why it is that as soon as come comfort and 
peace, — as soon as we begin to dare to rejoice, 
then calamities overtake us. 

One was added to our little number whom wo 
welcomed thankfully; and now one has been 
taken. Yesterday, Edward Thompson, our ser- 
vant boy, died. He was a good boy, faithful in 
duty, and we all loved him. Besides he had 
lived with us some time in Leyden, and was so 
kind and gentle to Mary, drawing her so care- 
fully around in a little carriage, in her later, 
feebler days, that he seemed one of the family. 

I cannot drive from my mind the thought of 
the grief of his poor old mother in Leyden, when 

124 


FJLITS WSEITJE^S ZETTEJR BOOK, 

at some future day, far-off I fear, this story of 
his death shall fill with gloom her empty home, 
for he was ‘‘ the only son of his mother and she 
a widow.’’ I remember that sad, sad parting, as 
weeping she blessed him and said good-bye at the 
door of their humble home, and he strove to 
comfort her. ‘‘ Don’t cry, mother, I will try to 
do right, and sometime you shall come to me, the 
Lord willing, and we will be happy again to- 
gether.” 

That Edward was not afraid of the valley with 
its dark shadows, consoles us, and even when 
they took his body in the long-boat to the shore, 
and digging through the deep-frozen ground, 
buried it till we should find some permanent 
place to disembark and settle, and there remove 
it, I thought, that after all, it was sometimes not 
nearly so sad to pass through the gates of death 
to life eternal, as clinging to this body of death, 
endure this daily dying which we call living. 

All on board to-day have had a narrow escape 
from a dreadful death. Now that it is over, and 
the danger past, I tremble to think what might 
have been our sad fate. We have on board a 
man from London named Billington, — with us, 
but not of us, — a wicked man, who with his bad 
125 


FAITH WHITENS ZETTFB BOOK. 


sons verifies how God doth “ visit the iniquities 
of the fathers upon the children.’’ In the ab- 
sence of his father, the younger boy, Francis, 
went into his parent’s cabin, got some gunpow- 
der, shot off a piece or two, made some squibs, 
and afterwards fired off a loaded gun that was 
standing there. Although there was a barrel part- 
ly fall of powder in the cabin, and a fire within a 
few feet, with many people around it, no harm 
was done. 

Surely we, having been preserved through so 
many trials by land and sea, fire and flood, are 
kept for some great end. And our Redeemer is 
showing us by these untiring tokens of infinite 
love, that w6 are not our own, but bought with a 
price ; that we belong to Him, and we know that 
His are kept safely, — a precious truth for times 
of doubt; a bright light in hours of darkness. 

The poor boy is now suffering the penalty of 
his naughtiness. I never saw a man in such a 
passion, as was Mr. Billington when he returned, 
and his wife, who had already given Francis a 
severe beating, and threatened to give him more, 
began to give him an account of the matter. 
Waiting only to hear a part, he fell upon the 
child with such a tempest of kicks, cuffs, blows, 
12G 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEB BOOK, 


and curses, as made us all tremble for the boy’s 
life, and the father’s soul. 

When he was exhausted with beating him, he 
thrust him down into the hold, where, according 
to his fatlier’s threat, given in no gentle tone, he 
is to stay a week and live on bread and water ; 
but Mrs. Billington, equally unfortunate in gov- 
erning herself and her family, as soon as he 
began to punish Francis, interrupted, taking his 
part, and upbraiding her husband most bitterly, 
said she should see to it that Francis had every- 
thing that was good to eat, which promise she 
has verified by taking down to him a large piece 
of cheese and a cake ; she promises, too, that if 
her husband goes on shore to-morrow she will let 
him out of confinement, and certainly we shall 
be glad to be rid of his distracting kicking and 
screaming below. 

In a day or two, some of the men will go on 
another and longer voyage of discovery, hoping 
to find not too far-off towards the north, better 
ground and fishing, with running brooks, that we 
may be sure of water in the summer time, 
though now it seems to me that there can be no 
such thing as summer here, but that one eternal 
winter of frost, snow, and cold reigns. We still 
127 


JPAITH WHITENS ZETTEB BOOK. 


have some butter, beer, and salted meat left, and 
we fear if we do not find some place of settling 
soon, our impatient Captain, when our food is 
spent, will put us on shore and leave us to our 
fate, as he has often threatened. 

So while they are gone, we shall sit here in 
their absence, and talk of, wait and pray for 
them, while watching over our sick, for many are 
now alarmingly ill with lung fevers, and dreadful 
colds and coughs, that come from wading in this 
freezing water, in the necessary excursions on 
shore. 

The shadow is over us, it may be the cloud 
leading us in the right way, but it is a thick 
cloud of gloom, that makes me recall with tears 
my wish once expressed that henceforth we might 
be led through sunny places. 

I think, my Cariad, whose name Jasper has 
promised to tell me when I am through writing 
by his sick bedside, that doing the Lord’s will is 
easier than suffering it ; actions, however labori- 
ous, easier than sitting still and waiting on God. 
I was wishing to-day that I was a man to take 
part in this trip, foolishly asking again for some 
great thing to do, not bear, till my mind ran 
back to my quiet, peaceful life in Leyden, when I 
128 


FAZTn WHITENS ZETTEE BOOK. 

often tired of little things, and then I almost 
sighed that it might be the All-Father’s will to 
let those care-free days come again — only that 
cannot, cannot be. 


129 


CHAPTER XI. 







Mayflower^ Wednesday^ December 6. 

^ Y Cariad ! my Cariad ! — Thou who 
hast entered — 0 mystery of mys- 
teries ! hast already entered on thine 
eternal years, tell me, is “ the Lord good and 
kind, gracious and long-suffering ? ’’ I dare not 
doubt it, and yet “ the heavens above are as 
brass ” when I stretch pleading hands unto them, 
and I “ look unto the earth and behold trouble 
and darkness, dimness of anguish.’’ 

When I would pray for resignation and peace, 
only this mournful thought comes to me again 
and again, that I found thee for a little while — 
it was such a little while ! — and now thou hast 
gone from earth forever. 

If for a moment I could forget it, I hear the 
sad children whisper sorrowfully between their 
sobs — “ Jasper Carver is dead ! ” You, the life 

130 


FAITIL WHITENS ZETTER BOOK, 


of this sad handful of dying Pilgrims who have 
come to these shores but to find undisturbed 
graves ! You, who only two days ago, when our 
poor Edward lay struggling with Death, and 
though conquered yet came off the conqueror, 
forgetful of your own pain, told us of “ the ex- 
ceeding comfort wherewith Christ comforteth 
us ; ” you, too, have met the same enemy, van- 
quished him in the power and name of the Lord 
Jesus,, and gone from us to your triumph ! 

My Cariad ! Mine still ! How good it was in 
you — how like your own good self, always so 
much better than I, now so infinitely exalted — 
to tell me that you were “ My Cariad,” so long- 
looked for ! To ask to read and be interested in 
these simple, little letters of which I was so 
much ashamed ! How thoughtful to tell me still 
to write to you in the coming long years of my 
life, — if, perchance, they must be long, — as if 
any poor words of mine could reach or gladden 
you, in that fair land, so far, yet so near, where 
you rest, wrapped in a sweeter repose, than was 
Ascanius, when Cytheria, bearing him beyond 
life’s turmoil and trouble, laid him on flowery 
banks out of danger’s reach, and he was lulled 


131 


FJLITH WSITE^S LETTER BOOK, 

to enchanted sleep by odors burning on a hun- 
dred unquencbed altars. 

And still it comforts me to believe, that al- 
though thou hast ‘‘ come unto Mount Sion, and 
into the city of the living God, the heavenly 
Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of 
angels, to the general assembly and church of 
the first-born, which are written in heaven, and 
to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just 
men made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of 
the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling 
that speaketh better things than that of Abel,” 
yet even there with my other loved ones, you 
still look down on us with love and tenderest 
yearning. 

Already you have met your father and mother 
so long parted from you ; and you have seen 
grandfather, and Mary, no longer blind, has 
looked on you whom she always so much loved ; 
and David, and my own mother with the infant 
Hope in her bosom are also with you. 

My Cariad, when you lay dying did you 
know — of course you now know — how much I 
wanted to send word by you to the loved ones in 
the Better Land, messages of unforgetting devo- 


132 


faith: whitf^s iettfh book. 


tion, kisses of greeting, and dared not, for fear it 
might he wrong ? 

I see your father sorrowing as Jacob, and re- 
fusing to be comforted, saying, “ For I will go 
down into the grave unto my son mourning ; ” 
your poor mother bowing like a bruised reed 
under this stroke from God’s heavy hand ; while 
Little Sunshine — you told me to call her my 
sister now — sits sobbing in deepest grief for her 
best brother,” and your two orphan brothers — 
doubly orphaned in losing you — cling to each in 
their sorrowful loneliness. 

The passengers, captain, officers, and crew all 
weep and mourn, — and it is right to grieve at 
thy fate — so young to die ! Over dead Lazarus, 
his friend, Jesus wept,” till said the Jews, 
“Behold how ho loved him!” albeit Pie knew 
that by His divine power, Lazarus should soon 
come forth from that gloomy prison-house of 
death, to live again, — come back to this dreary 
earth-life, to which I would not, no, would not if 
I could, call thee, or any of mine who have gone 
to be forever with the Resurrection and the Life. 

Perchance “ Jesus wept,” not that Lazarus was 
dead, but because. He, his Friend, who so well 
loved him, for the sake of the Jews and weeping 
133 


FAITH WHITE’S lETTEB, BOOK, 


Mary and Martha, was to break the sweet bonds 
that bound him in the sunlight of the heavenly 
city, and call him back to earth and life, to tread 
the roughnesses of one, and buffet and struggle 
with the temptations and disappointments of the 
other, all the darker and gloomier contrasted with 
his four days glimpse of eternal brightness, till 
sinking once more under the weight of his bur- 
den he should go up to share perpetually the 
final glory of his Friend and Master. 

0 that I could thus go to thee, to mine, and 
Him forever — for even with death thus near and 
around me life seems so long — so long and 
drear ! 


Mayflower^ Sabbath^ December 10. 

My Cariad, — I set me down to write, and 
from habit commence as before, yet I can but 
feel that the Letter Book part of this record of 
my life is ended, — that it is really but a Diary, 
now, — yet, perchance, by going on in the old, 
accustomed way, I may at times rise to that 
height of faith which shall bring you very 
near — my Friend, still. Again the Lord has 
been among us, calling two more away to life 
eternal with you and them gone before. 

134 


FAIIM WJIITE^S ZETTEJ2 BOOK. 

Mrs. Bradford drowned ! 0, liow we tried to 

bring her back to life, to recall consciousness, to 
give warmth and breath to the cold, still body, 
watching with such agony and fear for the slight- 
est symptoms of life — but all in vain, in vain ! 
God is wiser than we — He knoweth what is best. 

Her face as she lies in the sleep of death, has 
on it a brighter smile than I ever saw there 
before ; gone the look of home-sickness and wist- 
ful yearning for My boy,” because she has at 
last reached home, and found Him whose name 
is better than many sons and daughters. Like 
frightened children we cluster together and look 
in each other’s faces and weep, each dreading to 
think of the grief of Mr. Bradford, when he 
shall return from this voyage, and find his wife, 
so beloved, snatched suddenly from him. 

His face haunts me as he looked when trying 
to comfort your father, the other day, and dis- 
suade him from his determination of going on 
this voyage of discovery that he might have 
something to fill his empty, dreary heart — for it 
is so lonely since you went away ! — and now Mr. 
Bradford in turn needs the healing balm of 
Christ’s consolation. 

Mr. Chilton is our other dead. His smitten 


135 


FAITH WHITENS IE I TEE BOOK. 


wife, and only daughter Mary, sit dumb with 
sorrow under the lightning-stroke of affliction, 
striving to look upwards through the gloom and 
thick darkness to where Jesus is, and he with 
Him. Poor, dear Mary ! I thought I had passed 
through the greatest possible sorrow by the hand 
of death, but since she has lost her father, I am 
led to remember that this bitterest of all losses 
may yet come to me. 0 my father ! my father ! ” 
I hear her moan now and then, half in mourning 
for her dead, and half in prayer to the pitying 
All-Father ; and responsively I cry, “ 0 my Fath- 
er in heaven ! spare to me my earthly father — 
take Thou not him, not him.” 

To be ready to die ! That used to seem to me 
such a solemn thought. Now with all this death 
around and among us, with this grim shadow — 
which Christ by His death has made but a 
shadow — always so near and ready, reaching out 
to snatch us, it seems much harder to be ready to 
live. 

After watching by the sick half the night, I 
wake in the cold, dark morning from a little 
troubled, broken sleep, and starting up, for one 
moment commence my morning prayer, — “ My 
Fatlier, I thank Thee that I still live, that Thou, 

136 


Jb'AITJEC WI[ITE>S I^ETTEJt BOOK. 


ever watchful, hast preserved me through these 
night watches,’’ and then there rushes over my 
mind such a sense of the sad yesterday, and 
prophetic knowledge of the deepening gloom of 
to-day ; such a recollection of our wasting, dying 
band, and longing for that perfect peace, and 
sweet rest of heaven, that I cry out, “Take 
Thou me, also. Let me not live my worthless 
life amid so much death. Spare these fathers 
and mothers, — these helpful, needed ones — and 
take me, weak and helpless, instead.” 

Mr. Brewster preached to us to-day from Rev- 
elations XIY : 3. “ For they are without fault 
before the throne of God.” In my past self-suffi- 
ciency, I thought I had taken as large draughts 
of comfort as possible, from the outgushing 
• overflow of God’s exceeding love to us, in letting 
us know that our Christian dead are, in the 
very article of death, at once, and “ forever 
with the Lord.” But I had to-day such an over- 
whelming sense of the beautiful completeness of 
that robe of righteousness Christ wrought for us, 
in which the dying sinner wraps his naked, trem- 
bling soul, and goes triumphantly, gloriously 
pure, and fully acquitted up to God’s throne, — 
no longer a throne of judgment to him, but a 
137 


faith: WHITE’S LETTEM BOOK. 


throne of glory, in which this new-crowned King 
shall share — that I could scarcely endure the 
brightness of the thought. 

And thou art already there, and thither our 
faltering footsteps tend, till He, from leading us 
in these lone desert paths shall say, “ Come up 
higher ! ” “ Even so, come. Lord Jesus.” 

Mayflower^ Tuesday^ December 12. 

The exploring party have just returned with 
the joyful tidings that at last they have found a 
home, — “A place pleasant for situation,” they 
say, but we are not rejoicing, and I write midst 
my fast-dropping tears of sympathy for Mr. Brad- 
ford. 

Mr. Brewster and Dr. Fuller went out in a 
boat to meet them, that they might break the sad 
tidings to him as gently as possible. After speak- 
ing of Mr. Chilton’s death, he was very ill when 
they went away, Mr. Brewster said that another 
had been unexpectedly taken by drowning — one 
who was nearest and dearest to a member of that 
weary band. Mr. Bradford seemed to know all 
by a sad intuition, for he said at once as he 
wrung Mr. Brewster’s hand, Pray the Lord for 
me that He give me grace to bear even this. It 
138 


FAITH WHITE’S lETTEIt BOOK. 


is Mary — my Mary! Her dreary December 
days are over, and she lias entered in her eternal 
June 1 Oh, my darling Mary 1 ” 

He made no inquiries, and seemed disinclined 
to talk, but went to the back part of the shallop, 
as if he would be alone with God and his grief. 

When he reached the ship, he walked calmly 
forward, and went on deck where she lies in her 
beautiful sleep. He lifted the cover from off the 
white, smiling face, knelt down and kissed her 
again and again, saying only, “ My Mary ! My 
Mary ! ’’ with never a tear"; or word of complaint, 
while we, who have wept over our dead till our 
eyes are as fountains of tears, sobbed and 
mourned with him. 

How like the prophet Ezekiel, to whom came 
the word of the Lord saying, “ Son of man, be- 
hold, I take away from thee the desire of thine 
eyes with a stroke ; neither shalt thou mourn nor 
weep, neither shall thy tears run down. Forbear 
to cry, make no mourning for the dead, bind the 
tire of thine head upon thee, and put on thy 
shoes upon thy feet, and cover not thy lips, and 
eat not the bread of men.’’ With what simplic- 
ity of active faith does Ezekiel add, “ So I spake 
unto the people in the morning : and at even my 
139 


FAITH WHITE’S IE T TEH BOOK. 


wife died ; and I did in the morning as I was 
commanded.’’ 

No questioning of God’s goodness, no striving 
against that immutable, incomprehensible Will, 
asking such hard things of humanity ! “ And I 

did in the morning as I was commanded.” 
Teach me this to obey, 0 Thou who commandest 
me. 

Now Mr. Bradford sits in the cabin leaning his 
head on his hand, with her Bible open before 
him, — it is all marked by her pencil and 
tears, — as if he would draw comfort from the 
exceeding precious promises of Christ to His 
flock — promises that grow dearer to us each day 
and hour. 

They have had a long, severe and perilous 
voyage, but the Lord kept them, and it is the last 
trip of discovery. When they started the weath- 
er was so cold that the water froze in their 
clothes, till they were like coats of iron, and two 
men were so ill, that they thought for a time they 
would have to return with them. 

As they drew near the shore to land they saw 
ten or twelve Indians busily engaged, as 'they 
found afterwards, in cutting up a huge grampus, 
but they fled at once. 

140 


FAITH WHITF^S ZETTER BOOK. 

The next morning they divided the company, 
leaving eight in the shallop — there were sixteen 
in the company including the ship’s mates and 
some sailors — while the rest went on shore, 
where they saw the tracks of the Indians, and 
further on found a large burying-place enclosed 
by a palisade, and also deserted Indian houses. 

That night the land party camped on shore 
near the shallop. At midnight a dreadful cry 
arose, and the startled sentinel roused them from 
their slumbers, but as they heard no more after 
firing their muskets, they concluded it must have 
come from wolves or foxes. 

But in the gray of the morning, after prayer 
for divine guidance, as they were preparing for 
breakfast, some of them took their armor to the 
shallop, but being unable to reach the boat, left it 
on shore. A little after, as they sat unsuspect- 
ingly at breakfast, they heard again the same 
horrible cry of the night before, — John How- 
land says it seemed to curdle the blood in his 
veins, and he has dreamed of hearing it every 
night since ! — and one of the company who was 
a little distance off came running in, and told 
them that the Indians were at hand ; almost at 
the same moment the arrows flew thick in their 


141 


FAITH WHITENS EETTEIt BOOK. 


very midst, and instantly the men ran out to 
secure their guns lying on the beach, which they 
feared the Indians had taken, but found them 
safe. 

But Captain Standish is too old a soldier to be 
caught unawares, and he had a snaphance ready 
which lie discharged at them, and then another 
man fired. Being anxious as to the state of the 
men in shallop, they called to them, and from 
their reply, “ Well, well, every one, and be of 
good courage,” they found they were not unpre- 
pared for the attack ; and after they had fired 
three pieces from the boat, a man in the barri- 
cade took a burning log out of the fire to them, 
that they might more easily light their matches. 
So at once from the boat and barricade they an- 
swered the tempest of arrows with a “■ain of shot, 
till some one aimed a musket at the Indian cap- 
tain, who was standing behind a tree, and rapidly 
hurling his arrows at our men. This seemed to 
take ejSect, for he gave a loud cry of command or 
pain, and then all went away, supposed tc be 
about thirty or forty in number, yet, although 
the arrows had flown thick and fast among our 
men, so that some coats hanging in the barricade 
were shot through and through, not one was liurt 


FAITH WHITE’S TETTER BOOK. 


in this battle, which they called The First En- 
counter, and for which deliverance they gathered 
together and thanked God with full hearts. 

To just such protection as this must David 
have referred, when he said, “ The angel of the 
Lord encampeth round about them that fear liim, 
and delivereth them.” 

They have brought to the ship, to send as 
curiosities to England, eighteen of their arrows, 
and fierce-looking weapons they are, some headed 
with brass, some with deer’s horn, and others 
with eagles’ claws. 

After their prayer of thanksgiving, they went 
on board, but a storm of wind, snow and rain 
arose, the hinge of the rudder broke, and the 
boat was so unmanageable as to put them in 
great danger By afternoon the gale became so 
violent that the weight of the sail split the mast 
in three pieces, yet finally, by God’s preserving 
goodness that never deserts us, they struck into a 
harbor, which before then the Pilot had thought 
he knew, but found that it was a strange place, 
entirely unknown to him, surrounded by danger- 
ous rocks; at length they drifted near to an 
Lsland in a secure place, and late on Friday 
night landed there, and kept tlieir watch in the 
143 


FAITH WHITE’S ZETTEB BOOK, 


cold, heavy rain, not knowing but that at any 
moment the arrows of the watchful savages 
might fly iii their midst. 

On Saturday morning they marched through 
and around the island, which was quite small, 
and received the name of Clark’s Island from the 
first mate who was with the company ; the rest 
of that day they spent in drying their clothes, 
and in repairing the shallop, and there they 
rested on the Sabbath according to the command- 
ment. 

Monday they sounded the harbor, and found it 
good, landed on a friendly rock on the main-land, 
marched into the country where they found corn- 
fields and running brooks, and were so pleased 
with all that they saw, that all were willing to 
decide on this as our future home, to which we 
are to set sail as soon as possible. 

‘‘The Lord is very good unto us His shiful 
children ! ” I hear Coodwife Brewster saying. It 
is a sweet thought to carry with us always, es- 
pecially to our sleep in these long, sad nights, 
disturbed by the moans of the. sick and sorrow- 
ing. 

So, as I close my Letter Book and say “ good 
night ” to you who know its shadows no longer, 
144 


FAITJa: WRITE’S ZETTER BOOK, 


— For there shall be no night there,’’ — I whis- 
per softly to myself, ‘‘ The Lord is very good to 
us His sinful children.” 

Plymouth Harbor^ Tuesday^ Dec. 19. 

With our future home in full view, its snow- 
capped hills dotted with evergreens stretching far 
away till they meet the blue horizon, we ride at 
anchor in the shelter of beautiful Plymouth Bay, 
called Plymouth because of its resemblance to 
that harbor of peace on dear old England’s 
shores, whence we last set sail hither, with anx- 
ious hearts even then but gay and light compared 
with their heavy, solemn beating now ; and also 
they have named our future home Plymouth, in 
memory of the exceeding kindness of those 
fellow-christians there, to us way-faring pilgrims. 

We left Cape Cod Harbor last Friday, but a 
bitter storm drove us back nearly to our old 
position. Saturday we came safely here, and are 
now securely anchored one and a half miles from 
land, sheltered on all sides by points of land that 
seem to be islands, on one of which our men 
spent the Sabbath. They are beautiful, and 
covered with trees, from which the children are 
eating the walnuts, and chewing the sassafras 
145 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEB BOOK. 


bark given them by the sailors, with great de- 
light, as foretastes of the abundance of our new 
home, of which they anticipate many impossible 
things. 

Yesterday parties went on shore, and some- 
where near on the coast we shall settle and say 
“ Home ” at last. It seems a mockery to caU 
any place here below a Home for such a wasting, 
dying band as we ! Already neath the shadow 
of a great tree, on a hill overlooking the bay, 
four lie side by side, buried as you requested, 
where you could hear the solemn beat and 
rh3rthm of the sea. 

My Cariad, as long as you were yet unburied, 
ere you found a final resting place in tender 
mother-earth, whence the magnet of God’s love 
let down shall draw you floating particles of dust 
to itself and Himself, I expect that you were still 
in one sense here with us; that you had not 
quite slipped our frantic hold on your young life 
— so young to die ! But when, midst loud sobs, 
and a rain of tears wrung from our hearts, they 
yesterday rowed away in the shallop, carrying 
four rude coffins — A Precious Freight! — all 
was and seemed ended. 

And so it is ended, and over the four graves 
146 


jfaitb: whitens eettem book. 


where yesterday they turned the frozen clods, 
and underneath planted this choice seed of 
death, the snow has sifted and drifted during the 
night, and to-day we see no ripple or ruffle in the 
sod, to tell us where you lie, only the overhang- 
ing trees, with their branches weighed down by 
the snow, bending like heart-broken mourners 
above their dead, yet each pointing with one 
slender finger to the sky, as if to remind us 
whither your spirits have gone, and a voice whis- 
pers to us as Jesus to grieving Martha, “ Thy 
brother shall rise again.’’ 

Sleep on, dear Dead! Neath the mourning 
pine-trees distilling their tears of snow and dew, 
in winter and summer nights, rest ye in peace 
profound, till one by one, soon perhaps, we, an 
unbroken band, shall near you “ sleep in Jesus.” 

Plymouth Harbor^ Friday^ Dec. 22. 

Last Wednesday, all who were able to do so, 
went on shore and commenced with a will to 
construct a Rendezvous, or Common House, 
where about twenty could stay, proposing to 
begin on Thursday to build their own houses. 

It was such a cheerful day on board. The mo- 
notony of uncertain waiting of our past ship-life 
147 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


was broken ; this was a near reality, and we 
watched the men on shore hurrying hither and 
thither like swarming bees, their dark forms 
showing plainly against the snowy ground, even 
at the distance we are from them. 

The children were merrier than for many a 
long day, playing their old, almost forgotten 
games of the earlier part of our voyage, singing 
songs, chasing each other here and there over the 
ship, and when the flesh was weary with un 
wonted exercise, collecting in groups, and talk- 
ing all together the most delightful nonsense, and 
incomprehensible jargon about their new houses, 
and what they would have to put in them, chat- 
ting gaily over the coming Christmas, and its ex- 
pected gifts, — particularly Mr. Hopkins’ chil- 
dren, who being from London have always kept 
Christmas with yule log, holly-decked rooms and 
gifts, — in the fulness of their faith in us, antici- 
pating as much as if we were just off England’s 
or Holland’s shores, instead of a vast, howling 
wilderness ; as if we were rich, and abounded in 
all things, and were not the daily mock and jest 
of the captain and sailors, because of our pov- 
erty — in some cases real poverty. 

But we had forgotten those stinging words and 
148 


FAITS WSITE^S ZETTEB BOOK, 


taunts, and all at length caught the joyous infec- 
tion, so that before I knew it, I found myself 
singing over my work like the Faith White of 
Bird’s Nest days. 

Even Captain Jones himself, who has of late 
been very surly and glum, threatening several 
times in the midst of our sickness and distresses, 
when our men were making all possible speed, 
tlmt if they did not soon find a place to land and 
settle, he would decide the matter speedily, and 
put us all on shore anywhere, it did not matter 
to him so that he was well rid of us, — even he 
was so wrought upon by God’s grace interposing 
in our behalf, that he became social and pleasant, 
and the idle, brutal sailors followed his example. 

So that Wednesday was a brighter, happier 
day in our calendar than we have known since 
we first espied land after our weary, weary 
voyage. I was intending ere it ended and night 
came on, to write you a really cheery letter, fra- 
grant with the odor of heart’s ease that grew in 
that one day of continuous sunshine ; but I was 
so busy in just being happy, that the swift hours 
flew by, and were gone before I knew it. I was 
going to date it “ All Saint’s Bay,” an anniver- 
sary occurring, I know not where, but celebrated 
149 


FAJTH WHITENS ZETTJEB BOOK, 


with much pomp by the Roman Catholic Church 
in honor of their imaginary saints ; — not that I 
love any such superstition, only it seemed to me 
that all the saints — those ministering spirits of 
ours of whom St. Paul so comfortingly speaks — 
had combined to make that one day glad, and 
bright to each and every one of us. 

But it ended at last, as all happy and sad days 
do, — and the children, weary with their joyous 
games, slept, as the night closed in with another 
tempest of snow, wind, rain and hail, covering 
everything exposed with a coat of sleet, and so 
hard did it blow, that it was only with the 
greatest difficulty that they could get the boat 
launched by Thursday noon, laden with provision 
for the poor men standing guard in their incom- 
plete Rendezvous on shore, having nothing to 
eat, and exposed to the bitter storm, which still 
continued to rage to-day, so that we cannot even 
see the shore, nor send anything to the men who 
are still there. 

This morning, as usual, little Johnny Allerton 
was watching me with round-eyed wonder, while 
I washed and dressed our darling Peregrine, — - 
who is such a dear, good baby, never crying, and 
already learning to smile 1 — and waiting patiently 
160 


FAITH WHITENS ZETTEH BOOK. 


for him to be “ fixed nice,” as he says, so he 
could have “ good times ” at his favorite occupa- 
tion, — rocking the cradle, — when Goodwife 
Brewster came in our cabin, with a wee baby in 
her arms, and told Johnny because he was a good 
boy, she had brought him that baby for his own 
little brother. 

I never saw so delighted a child. Mother sat 
back in her easy-chair and laughed as she has not 
since David died, to see him welcome and fondle 
the stranger, and try to entertain it with baby- 
talk, and telling it stories, particularly of Jonah, 
adding with great emphasis, “ But the naughty 
old whale shan’t get you baby ! ”, and wondering 
why it had not hair like Peregrine,’ and very sure 
he saw a tooth in its mouth which our baby did 
not have. 

So all the morning Johnny and the older 
ones — two brothers and one sister — were quite 
great heroes in the eyes of the rest of the en- 
vious children, who, in their wildest imaginings 
of what Christmas was going to bring them, 
never had dreamed of so wonderful a gift. But 
already Johnny’s happiness is clouded, and as I 
write he lies beside mother, now and then sigh- 
ing deeply in his sleep, — as David used to do 
151 


FjItH whitens EETTEJt BOOK. 


when he had sobbed himself to slumber after 
some heart-breaking grief, — for a few moments 
after Goodwife Brewster brought the baby in, it 
closed its eyes, as Johnny said “ To have a nice 
sleep and make it grow large as Peregrine,” — 
but although he did not then know it, the sleep 
was unto death — the old, sad story ! No, not 
sad, for God took him where he shall grow in all 
heavenly graces and beauties. 

His mother could not bear to have the dear 
little baby put into a rude coffin for his last, long 
sleep, so in the little drawer of a mahogany 
table, wrapped in soft, warm flannel, they have 
laid the mysterious bundle of humanity, that for 
so brief a space of time held an impatient soul, 
which, struggling, broke from its weak prison- 
house and went away — away. 

Short life it was indeed, but not all in vain, for 
one of the most profane and hardened sailors, as 
he came in and looked at it — reminded perhaps 
of some other dear little face whose closed lips 
had called him “ father ” brushed away with the 
sleeve of his jacket, the tears that rolled down his 
bronzed cheeks, and going down into the fore- 
castle, wept and sobbed like a child ; while Mary 
Allerton sat in his lap, and stroking his rough 
152 


FAITH WHITENS ZETTEE BOOK. 


face, said, “ Don’t cry, Sailor ! my little tiny 
baby-l)rotber lias gone up to beavcn, and is in 
J esus’ arms now ; and tbe flowers up there are a 
great deal prettier and sweeter than those that 
are in his little hands, Goodwife Brewster says. 
I am going some day to see him, and if you’ll be 
a good man, and not swear, the Lord will let you 
go along, and then you’ll see my baby-brother 
and the flowers too.” 

“ How could it go all alone, so far — away up 
to heaven ? ” asked Johnny. “ It was so little, 
and couldn’t hold up its head, nor walk ! Why 
can’t we go, and run, and bring it back again ? ” 

In vain mother tried to tell him and comfort 
him. He seemed only to have a vague idea of a 
lonely child’s soul flitting around outside in the 
dark, cruel tempest, and vainly seeking entrance 
into the warmth and light of some mysterious, 
far-away place, called heaven ; and again and 
again in the early evening, when the lamps were 
lighted, he pressed his face to the cabin window 
to see if he could espy him, calling “ Baby, 
baby ! ” in most beseeching tones, and when 
he saw his own reflection he begged mother, 
“ Please, Mamma White, let in that poor little 
boy that is out in the dark cold, like my little 
153 


FAITH WHITENS EETTEM BOOK. 


baby brother’s soul ! ” and when the window was 
opened to show him that only his shadow — noth- 
ing else — was there, he sobbed in grief, “ The 
poor boy is gone now, and will lose his way, and 
be frozen to death ! ” 

Dear, little Johnny ! He is only learning his 
first lessons of death. Sad lessons they are ; 
hard lessons too, which do not begin with the 
alphabet and primer. 

154 




CHAPTER XIL 


Christmas^ Monday^ Dec, 25. 

3 was awakened this morning by hearing 
the children whisper ‘‘ Merry Christmas ” 
to each other, and rejoice quietly over 
the few, poor little surprises we had been able to 
prepare for them, and was glad that a child’s 
heart could be thus easily made so cheerful and 
light in this thick darkness where we grope and 
touch only tl^se prison-walls of sorrow and 
death, that like one of the dread instruments of 
torture in the time of the Inquisition, are each 
day slowly and surely closing around us. 

On Saturday Mr. John Rigdale died, leaving a 
young wife who said good-bye to parents and all 
other friends in Holland, to come with him 
hither. And last night, Christmas eve, instead 
of angel-choirs chanting “ Peace on earth, good 
will to men,” Azrael, swift Angel of Death, stood 
155 


FAZTS WHITENS FEllIEF BOOK. 


again on the ship’s threshold, beckoning another 
to his cold embrace, and Solomon Power, nephew 
to Mr. Christopher Martin, could not choose but 
to follow his imperious beck and nod. So to-day, 
after funeral service on board ship, they carried 
up in the shallop two more, to add to the five 
snow-covered mounds on the hill-side looking sea- 
ward, — one so small ! — looking down on us, an- 
chored here in this lone harbor of death. 

But we must work for those that perchance 
may live, though Death stands ever grimly at the 
door, so on Saturday as the storm had abated, 
they went on shore, and did all they could in the 
way of felling timber, and a part of them kept 
the Sabbath there in their Rendezvous, though 
above their songs of praise and voice of prayer, 
they heard the shrill cry of the .Indians, who 
seem to be ever ready to sweep down upon them. 

To-day again they have been busy at work, far 
beyond their failing strength, in cutting down, 
sawing, splitting and carrying the heavy timber, 
and again they heard the cry of the watchful, 
haunting savages, but saw none. 

And it is to this we have come “ for the word 
of God and the testimony of Jesus Christ.” 
After having endured trials from wind and storm, 
156 


FAITH WHITE >8 IF T TER BOOK, 


from evil-minded men and false brethren, finally 
one by one, two by two, to die and swell the fast- 
lengthening line of graves, till, when so few are 
left that they dare, the merciless savages will fall 
upon the rest and haply, with one short agony all 
will be over. 

This for Thee — all this for Thee, 0 Jesus! Is 
it worth so much ? Had it not been better to 
have staid on Holland’s friendly shores, trusting 
to God’s promise to keep His own in the world 
but not of it, rather than rashly venture here, 
and lose all ? 

0 the weak faith of Faith White to-night. 
This Christmas night, anniversary of that day 
when our Christ, leaving the wealth and ease of 
His Father’s many mansions, flesh-clothed and 
burdened with the ills of mortality, “became 
poor that we through His poverty might be 
rich;” wandering in after long, weary years up 
and down this sin-smitten earth, unloved, reject- 
ed, despised, having no place to lay his head; and 
finally, thorn-crowned a king in suffering, loving 
and forgiving; His flesh, emblem of our sin, 
pierced by nails and spears from more cruel than 
savage hands; “His soul made an offering for 
sin,” goaded by betraying, abandoning and deny- 
157 


FAITH WHITE’S LETTER BOOK. 


ing followers, He died — died that we might 
live ! Was it worth so much ? 

.Though on that very endurance even to the bit- 
ter end, hangs all my hope of meeting this same 
Saviour, and rejoining friends, already sanctified 
and made pure in the drippings of His cross. I 
have dared — how did I dare ? — to ask Is it 
worth such sacrifice ? ” 

Alas, alas, for Faith White ! But it was such 
a dreary change to hear this morn, instead of the 
sweet matin carols of the Leyden children, the 
dull, cold thud and beat of the waves against the 
ship; for the bell’s chimes and Christmas an- 
thems, only the rude jargon and profanity of the 
sailors, and the fiercely brutal commands of the 
captain ; for the voice of prayer and hymns of 
praise, the sobs over the dead and the heavy 
choked breathing of the sick and dying ! 

It all made me so long for home — for the 
hearth of a year ago blazing brightly with grand- 
father’s yule-log, that he always had in memory 
of dear old England, and his childish days ; the 
holly on the wall, thick set with shining red 
berries, and the old story ever new, of the watch- 
ing shepherds on Bethlehem’s sacred hill, startled 
and charmed by the flash and melody of sudden- 
158 


faith: whitf^s ifttef book. 


ly appearing angel choirs ; of the guiding star 
with its long, bright train, and the obedient wise 
men from the east, rejoicing with ‘‘ exceeding 
great joy ’’ as they followed the glory on unto the 
Lord of glory. 

And this Christmas day grandfather is seeing 
the King in His glory, and is to night, all me ! 
looking down with mournful pity — only that 
they do not mourn in heaven — on his little 
grand-daughter, who is drawing back- from this 
time of trial, longing for the ease and plenty of 
Pharaoh’s house, — who is as he once said re- 
proachfully, “ Looking backward, backward.” 

ISIiLyflowen, Sunday, Dec. 31 , 1620 . 

It is the last night of the year, my Cariad, — 
mine still, I am persuaded, though I am closing 
this simple record of a long weary year, and 
the recording angel is sealing up his book until 
the great day of accounts ; and you, but a little 
while ago — yet how long it seems — turned 
life’s last page, and began your unwearied beat 
on the cycles of eternity, commensurate only 
with God Himself. 

There and Now ! One year ago only ! How 
much of sorrowful change God can compress 

159 


FAZTU WHITENS ZETTEB BOOK. 


into a year — into one month even ! Then I re- 
member a warm bright fire, and a group of 
parents and children gathered around, the purr 
of the cat on the hearth — poor old Tabby, she 
sleeps and hums beside me now as I write, alone 
unchanged, — the humming of the tea-kettle, 
the shouting and singing of the children, the joy 
and the laughter. You were there, my Cariad, 
with your brother and Little Sunshine, — whose 
woful face since you dropped out of our band 
makes a sad mockery of her name ; Mary and 
David sat on grandfather’s knee, and Mr. Brad- 
ford played with his little boy, and said “ My 
Mary” to her whom God called as His own to 
Himself. 

To-night — the sad now — in this ship is only 
here and there one well enough to sit up — for 
all the men who are able to work went on shore, 
and are keeping the Sabbath there — -with no 
voice of song, or cheerful, joyous smile, happy in 
God’s smiling providence and grace. We hear 
only the groans of the sick, the sighs of the 
smitten and sorrowful, tempered with a solemn 
psalm of submissiveness to the incomprehensible 
divine will : and a prayer of far-reaching faith by 

the bedside of the dying,- sublime in its out- 
IGO 


Jb'AITH WHITENS ZETTEE BOOK. 


stretching beyond the cloud and thick darkness, 
to the throne of God itself. 

Poor Mary Chilton ! Her father sleeps under 
the snow beside you, and her mother now lies at 
death’s door, almost ready to pass through that 
mysterious portal to the Saviour that redeemed 
and claimed him she loved so well, and except 
for Mary’s sake, is glad so soon to follow. 

‘‘ She may live till morning now she has passed 
the sunset hour,” uncle Fuller replied in answer 
to Mary’s earnest questioning of the whole truth, 
but another sun will never set for her ; the 
morning, when it breaks, will usher in an eternal 
day.” 

Uncle Edward Fuller is also very ill, so low 
that to-night he told his wife that the days of his 
years were numbered, and he should soon have 
measured their little span. Lonely wife that she 
will be, but not long, for she is very feeble and 
coughs incessantly ; yet she insists upon waiting 
on him with untiring, sleepless devotion, perform- 
ing those last precious acts of dove that God 
permits us to give to our dying friends. 

Mr. Christopher Martin is very sick also, and in 
his delirium talks incessantly of Billerica on Eng- 
lish shores, calling by name many of the friends 
161 


FAITH WHITENS lETTFF BOOR. 


he left there ; and imagining them* around him, 
he says good-bye, and teiis them he shall never 
see them more. Mr. Martin is really a good 
man, though while he was Governor of the 
Speedwell he was waspish and tyrannical, — of 
course there must have been many very trying 
things, to vex and worry him in his new posi- 
tion, — and sometimes, in the pride of his. better 
estate, made himself so merry over the poverty 
of some of our sorry band, that we could not feel 
that he was wholly one with us in the love of the 
Lord Jesus and His poor. 

But since his nephew that he loved so much 
was ill and died, and especially since his own 
sickness, his eyes have been opened to see that a 
vast wealth of forgiving and brotherly love, bet- 
ter than “ the gold that perisheth,” may be 
hidden away in a poor man’s heart if he be a 
Christian, ready to be shed forth freely on any 
of Christ’s disciples, so that now he does not 
seem like the same man. 

Thus does the Lord Jesus our righteousness 
make us perfect through suffering, some in one 
way, some in another, according to our need. 
And it is better so. Closing to-night this sad, old 
year, about to enter on a new, untried one, I 
162 


FAITH WHITENS TFT TER BOOK. 


would pray earnestly and sincerely, “ 0, Abba, 
Father, make Thou me like Thine own self ; take 
Thou me to Thyself. I must go to Tliee in some 
way ; I must find Thee somehow. Be it by sor- 
row, by suffering or deprivations, any way Thou 
seest best for Thee and Thine own glory accom- 
plish this, and bring us all that labor and are so 
heavy laden unto Thine own perfect rest at last.’’ 

Mayflower, Wednesday, January 3. 

“ Swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,” says the 
Bible, of human life. I think of the fast-flying 
shuttles in the busy looms at Leyden and of 
their likeness to our own quickly-fleeting lives, as 
I make this first record of the year, — Mrs. 
Chilton is dead. The New Year’s morning 
ushered in for her an eternity unmeasured by 
years. 

Uncle Edward is still very ill. and low, but Mr. 
Martin so much better that we hope for his 
recovery. 

Still the work on shore progresses as rapidly as 
possible, for they are anxious to remove us out 
of the close, foul air of the ship, hoping that it 
will help to stay the sickness. Last TJiursday 
they began to work on a high hill, ^Ulere tliey 
103 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEM BOOK. 

propose to build a platform and plant the Ordi- 
nance, because it commands the plain and the 
bay. 

At tlie foot they have concluded to build a line 
on each side of a street, which is to be called 
Leyden Street, all to be securely impaled around 
as a defence against Indian attacks. They 
measured the grounds, and so as to build fewer 
houses, they allowed families and single men to 
unite together as they chose. Thus they have 
made nineteen families, and they laid out the 
lots allowing a half-pole in breadth, to three in 
length, for each person. 

That seems like having a fixed home at last, — 
as fixed as we who have no abiding city here 
could hope for, — and our family as selected will 
be uncle Samuel, uncle Edward and aunt Rachel, 
if they live to occupy it, and - cousin Samuel. 
With Mr. Winslow’s family, including a brother 
and two servants, and one in ours, William Hol- 
beck, their will be sixteen in all — three times as 
many as are in some families, and quite a num- 
ber for our small house of but one room at pres- 
ent ; but several are sick already, and we can 
only guess how many of us will dwell in a nar- 


164 


FAITS WSITE>S FETTER BOOK. 

rower house, but none too straight for us, ere 
this rude shelter shall have been completed. 

To be ready to occupy this narrow house when 
the Master Builder calls on His tenants should 
be our one greatest wish and labor. 

To think that we give so much precious time 
and anxious thought to these pOdr earthly homes 
of ours, whose thresholds we may never cross, 
and so little to the “ many mansions ” shut in by 
jasper walls and pearly gates, to which we may 
have an indisputed title, and that Christ has 
gone to “ prepare ’’ for us I Preparing for us, 
and we not preparing for it ! How strange, how 
strange ! 

Friday and Saturday were too stormy days for 
work, but Monday they commenced again, and as 
the weather has been quite favorable they have 
succeeded well. To-day, as some of the men 
went out a long distance to cut thatch, they saw 
great fires that the Indians had made, and came 
to their cornfields planted last year, but saw none 
of the Indians themselves : indeed none have as 
yet been seen since we came to Plymouth Bay, 
though they flit around the men on shore like 
unlaid ghosts, startling them from their work 


165 


FAITH WHITENS EETTEJt BOOK, 


and slumber with shrill cries, as if to warn us 
that we are never safe, hut that in some unguard- 
ed moment they will swoop down upon us as a 
kite on a dove, and then — then — God will take 
care of the rest ! 


CHAPTER XIII. 


m 


Mayflower^ Tuesday, Jan. 9. 
HE days and weeks creep slowly, slowly 
on, stifling us with the weight of their 
burden of care and weariness — yet they 
take our loved ones rapidly. * 

Mr. Martin is dead. He had seemed so much 
better till within a few days that we had strong 
hopes he might survive, but last Saturday he took 
a sudden relapse, and grew worse so fast, that at 
his request they hastily sent on shore for Gov- 
ernor Carver, who came at once. 

“ I cannot posr-ibly get well,” he said, and I 
would like to settle all my accounts with you, 
while the Lord gives me strength and reason.” 

So they looked them over together. Tt was a 
tedious task, for he had spent about seven hun- 
dred pounds in various ways for the benefit of 
the company, and until then had refused to make 
167 


FJ-ITBl WSITE’S letter book. 


any statements as to the way it had been ex- 
pended. 

Again and again did Governor Carver tell him 
he was too weak and weary to finish, and beg 
him to rest a little while. He insisted on going 
on, and when it was satisfactorily explained he 
laid back, and wiping the perspiration from his 
deathly pale brow, he said with a sigh of relief, 

I have done with man, and must now settle 
with God. It is a longer account than this one, 
Governor Carver, and I have nothing wherewith 
to paj, but God for Christ’s sake forgives us all 
our debts ; ” and from that time, till he died on 
yesterday, he seemed to be calmly happy, not 
triumphantly so, saying little, and nothing except 
that already mentioned, of his soul’s experience 
and hope as he journeyed on, and looked with 
dimming eyes into the valley of the shadow of 
death. 

Uncle Edward Fuller is very low. “ He will 
never go to the new house, except his own nar- 
row tenement for one, that we shall all some day 
claim,” said uncle Samuel to-day with a shake 
of his head, and a murmur of My brother !” as 
he went on his sad round of duties to the sick. 
Aunt Rachel has long had no hope of his recov- 
168 


FAITS WHITF^S FETTER BOOK. 


ery, but she does not seem to mourn. Her cough 
has reduced her very rapidly, and after talking 
with the doctor this morning she called cousin 
Samuel to her, and with many fond kisses told 
him to notice how weak his once strong father 
was, and see how thin were her hands, and how 
bright her deep sunken eyes. 

Little by little she led him on to know her sad 
meaning — it is so hard for us children to think 
that our parents can die ! — and when the tumul- 
tuous tears gathered in his eyes as he dimly per- 
ceived the dread truth, she said between spasms 
of coughing that choked her utterance, “My 
poor boy, do not cry and fret for us. God knows 
it is best that your father and I should go to Him 
soon, else He would not take us. But we will 
not leave you all alone. The Lord, who loves 
you better than father or mother can, will be 
with you, and as long as you both live, your 
uncle Samuel has promised to care for you as for 
his own little Samuel across the seas.” 

She took the boy’s plump, hard fingers in her 
own white, wasted hand, and caressing it with 
the unspeakable fondness of mother-love that 
grows stronger as it feels its hold on life relaxing, 
she asked him to promise to be a good and 
169 


FAXTS WHITE’S lETTEE BOOK. 


prayerful boy, and to love the Lord his Maker 
and Eedeemer, in whom was his father’s and 
mother’s only trust in these last hours of life. 

“ For P my poor boy^ my only boy, whom 
I am going to leave, I could better bear to 
straighten your stony limbs for the grave, and 
know that I must drag on through long years of 
life without you, than to think they would ever 
run into forbidden ways of wickedness, — that 
you would grow up a bad man, one that did not 
delight to fear God and keep His command- 
ments.” 

He promised with sobs of anguish, and he 
locked his arms tightly around his mother’s neck, 
as if he would dispute possession with Death 
himself. Only a little while ago with swollen 
eyes and tear-stained face, I heard him asking 
Paul my old question, — not so old either, for 
alas ! I repeat it in substance and spirit to myself 
almost daily, — “How can God love me so 
much — better even than my parents, and want 
me to be happy, and yet take away all my 
friends, and leave me here without either father 
or mother, when He has commanded us to love 
our parents, and knows that it will make me 
very miserable to let them die ? ” 

170 


FAlTir WHITENS ZETTEE BOOK. 


Paul’s philosophy could not explain the sophis- 
tic mystery, but in reply he gave obedient child- 
hood’s unanswerable argument ; “ I don’t know, 
but father says that God always knows and does 
what is best for us, and the Bible says so too.” 
And as they drew nearer together, and twined 
their arms around each other in speechless grief, 
and sympathy with coming grief beyond all 
power of speech to avert, Paul promised Samuel 
to love him always, and that our father and 
mother should be the same as his, and that he 
knew I would let him call me sister. 

Dear boy ! it is so little that I can do for him 
in this his trial hour! Yet how gladly, if God 
who “ always knows what is best for us,” thought 
it best to let me, would I die in place of one of 
his parents, that he might not be wholly or- 
phaned. 

Last night John Billington’s second son — 
Francis by name, the same one who fired off the 
guns in his father’s cabin while we lay in Cape 
Cod Harbor, — came on board very much elated, 
and strange as it may seem, has helped not a 
• little to break up for one day the sad monotony 
of our prison-life here on ship. 

He and his brother John had gone on shore for 
171 


FAITH WHITENS EETTEM BOOK, 


the purpose of helping their father, who always 
takes them, and invariably says of them with an 
oath, ‘‘ My boys are more plague than profit ten 
times over ! ’’ and assuredly they do abound in 
“ superfluity of naughtiness.’’ Amusing himself 
at his old trick of climbing, this time in the top 
of a high tree, he saw the shining of a body of 
water far off. 

As Captain Standish, with four or five men, 
made quite a circuit around the plantation the 
other day, going to the place where the fires of 
the Indians had been seen, yet did not meet any, 
it was thought sufficiently safe for him and one 
of the ship’s mates to go in search of it. After 
travelling three miles in a southwesterly direction 
from the town, — sorry town that it now is ! — 
they came to two beautifully clear lakes, the 
larger one six miles around, containing an island 
in the center, and abounding in fish and wild 
fowl. 

They have agreed to name it Billington Sea in 
honor of the explorer, and Christopher Colum- 
bus, after discovering America, could not have 
carried himself with more dignity in the presence . 
of Ferdinand and Isabella, and the once sneering 
but then admiringly envious Spanish courtiers, 
172 


jpaitjb: wsite^s letter book. 


thaii Francis has to-day among the boys on 
board, so that, instead of being the fear and aver- 
sion of all of them on account of his mischiev- 
ous, vicious tricks, he is quite a stately hero 
among them. 

And bears his blushing honors thick about him.” 

At this moment he is entertaing them with 
another, and perhaps the twentieth, description 
of the Indian houses they passed — increasing in 
number at each repetition — the cornfields they 
saw, and indulging them in a patronizing pro- 
mise, that when they all got on shore, he will 
escort a party to fish and hunt fowl in Billington 
Sea, adding, with many consequential airs, vari- 
ous directions as to the weapons of defense it will 
be necessary to take with them, and how care- 
fully they must walk- in single file, looking 
cautiously right and left — here he drills them by 
way of experiment — that they may be always 
ready for a surprise from the lurking Indians, 
and so on “ Ad only longer than before, 

as Mr. Brewster used sometimes to say to Pa- 
tience and me, when giving us the morrow’s 
Latin lessons, in the days of long ago, happy 
173 


FAITH WHITE’S TETTER BOOK. 


days, so far in the dim past that I can hardly 
seem to remember them. 

Father being better and the day fair, he went 
on shore a little while, and returned to night 
when the boat came out after burying Mr. Mar- 
tin. He says that the Common House is nearly 
finished, wanting only covering. It is about 
twenty feet square, and all the men sleep in it, 
and use it as a store-house while they are pre- 
paring their own houses, the ground for each one 
of which was to-day decided by lot. 

Father brought us the plan of our side of the 
street as now laid out. We are to live at one 
end, farthest from the hill of defense ; next be- 
side is Mr. Francis Cook’s house, then comes Mr. 
Allerton’s, and lastly Mr. Billington’s ; just across 
the High Way, or Cross street, on the same side, 
is Mr. Brewster’s house, with whom Governor 
Carver and family, and Mr. Bradford are to live. 

Mayiiower^ Monday, Dec. 15. 

So many, many sad and strange providences 
have I to record I scarce know where to begin. 
How can I repeat the same story of death flitting 
in the breeze, and floating in the air ? For two 
more are gone to sleep in the fast-lengthening 
174 


jFA.ITH WHITENS ZETTJEJt BOOK. 


line of graves on the liilj-side, — uncle Edward 
and aunt Rachel, two out of our family ; yes, 
three, for very suddenly and unexpectedly Elias 
Story, one of Mr. Winslow servants, while on 
shore dropped out of life yesterday. 

All around us, both on ship and land are 
the sick, though none seem now to be fatally ill 
except Mrs. Alice Rigdale, whose few days of 
mourning will soon be over, when widowed no 
longer, nor sitting solitary in tears for the hus- 
band of her youth, she will have left us and gone 
to meet the Heavenly Bridegroom that impatient- 
ly awaiteth His bride. 

I write a moment, and then start up to give 
some one a drink of water, and have hardly 
seated myself when I see another flushed face 
with fever-parched lips that need to be moistened, 
one of Christ’s “ little ones ” to whom I am glad 
to be able to give that “ cup of cold water in the 
name of a disciple,” which He has promised to 
remember. 

I look over our little family and wonder if God 
is going to enter it again — in love verily, but 
bringing grief. Paul was quite ill two or three 
days ago, having been chilled through and almost 
frozen while coming on board from the shore, but 
175 


FAITS WHITENS EETTEB BOOK. 


thank God ! he is almost well now. Father still 
coughs, but has gone on shore to work, and he 
and Mr. Winslow, with the help of their two 
men, are getting on so finely with the house, that 
if it continues pleasant, they promise to take us 
on shore in a few days, so I may never date May- 
flower again. 

A few days ! 0 joy — joy! ” as Mary used 

to say when her easily pleased heart tided over 
with delight. Dear Mary! in her everlasting 
home, enjoying this day her eternal joy — for her 
eyes look upon “ the King in His beauty ; they 
behold the land that is very far-off.’’ 

Mother is quite well for her, better than she 
has been for two years, and this disease that at 
one time or another has prostrated nearly all, has 
so far not affected her ; while Peregrine is the 
dearest, chubby-faced, round-limbed, blue-eyed 
darling that ever was, a strong and healthy child, 
much larger now than Oceanus Hopkins, whose 
baby-life has always been a struggle with death. 

So much as I have to be thankful for as far as 
our own family are concerned — how can I help 
being patient and loving, willing to do what I 
can for all the others ? 

Mr. Bradford, who was on shore at work, was 
176 


FAITH WHITENS TETTER ROOK. 


last Thursday taken with very severe pain, and 
suffered so great agony for a while they thought 
he couldn’t possibly live, but before evening he 
became easier, and is better now. Governor 
Carver is also reported as ill on shore, having 
taken a heavy cold, but as yet his case does not 
seem serious. 

Midst these trials of our love and faith, we 
have had a severe fright that came about in this 
way. It being pleasant on Friday morning, four 
men went out some distance to cut thatch. 
Mr. John Goodman and Peter Browne, having 
worked at it all the forenoon, they told the other 
men they themselves would go further on, and 
they should soon follow. They started into the 
thick woods, and after a little while the other two 
followed in the same direction, a mile and a half 
from the plantation, but could find neither of 
them, though they shouted and hallooed a long 
time. It had then commenced to rain, so they 
returned to the Company, hoping a little to 
find the lost men there, but as they were not. 
Governor Carver and four men went out to hunt 
for them, but came back after a vain search, and 
more went in their place, but nothing could be 
seen or heard of them that night. 

177 


FAITS WHITE’S JLETTEF BOOK, 


The next day a dozen men were armed and 
sent, who fruitlessly sought them midst the blind- 
ing storm, through a circuit of eight miles 
around, and came back night weary and dis- 
heartened, almost certain that the savages had 
surprised and captured — perhaps murdered 
them. But late at night the missing men came 
in, John Goodman having his feet frozen, and so 
swollen, for the rain had turned to a storm of 
sleet and snow, that his shoes had to be cut off, 
and he now fears that he will not be able to walk 
for sometime. 

He has been telling us of their perilous jour- 
ney. It seems that they took their meat at 
dinnerrtime, and thought it would rest them to 
walk a little, after stooping all the morning to 
cut thatch. A mastiff and a spaniel followed 
them, and coming to a lake near by they saw a 
great deer. The dogs at once started in eager 
pursuit, and the men hastened on in search of 
game, so excited that they did not tliink of the 
distance, till they found they were hopelessly lost 
in the great forest, having no idea of the points 
of compass, with no food, thinly dressed, and no 
weapons except the sickles with which they had 
been cutting thatch. 

178 


FAITS WHITENS EETTEB BOOK, 


They wandered up and do\^ n through the rain 
and the storm, that froze as it fell, coating them 
with ice, till the early, dark night settled down, 
and then they heard the roaring of wild beasts 
far away, answered by a third that seemed near 
by. As they knew they should freeze to death 
if they did not move around, they walked all 
that night of bitter cold at the foot of a tree, 
thinking if they should be attacked, they might 
climb it, all the while holding on to the restive 
mastiff that was crazy to chase after the wild 
animals. 

As soon as they saw the first welcome streak 
of morning light they started again, and after 
long wandering past lakes, and through endless 
woods, in the afternoon they climbed a high hill 
from which they saw in the Bay the islands that 
shelter us ; by these they steered and so got in, 
in .safety. 

Meantime, we on the ship having heard late in 
the evening that the men had not been found, 
were mourning them as lost, or worse yet in 
savage hands, and besought God unceasingly in 
their behalf that He would guide and protect 
them, and if it was His righteous will, bring 
them again to us. 

179 


faith: whitens iettee book. 


Early on Sabbath morning, the wind being 
high, we noticed the Rendezvous on fire. Then 
indeed we were in despair, for our men were 
almost all on shore, and we feared that the 
savages had come down in great numbers, over- 
powered and killed our friends, and set fire to the 
Rendezvous. Such cries of terror and tears of 
grief! But Mr. Brewster calmed us in the 
strength of God’s promises to His dear children, 
and saying, “ Let us pray 1” drew us near in 
quiet trust to Jehovah, sitting in eternal oneness 
and infinite loneness on His throne of power, 
holding all things in His hand, and told Him of 
our great strait and need, of our weakness in 
ourselves, and utter dependence on Him, till we 
arose from our knees as confident of safety as if 
we had been on Holland’s shores, with all our 
dear ones unharmed around us. 

In less than an hour, as soon as the tide was 
on, being well-armed they put off in a boat, and 
moving cauiiously to shore, found when they 
landed that our confidence had not been mis- 
placed — that all was still “ a great God doing 
valiantly,” — for the two lost men had returned, 
and the Common House had been set on fire by 
an accidental spark, — burning the light thatch 
180 


FAITM WHITENS ZETTEM BOOK. 


indeed, with a great blaze, but leaving the roof 
unharmed ; and although the house was full of 
beds, in two of which lay Masters Carver and 
Bradford sick, and the muskets stood by loaded, 
and powder was stored within, yet none were 
hurt. 

‘‘ Who of us can doubt God’s care from this 
time forth ? ‘ Though He slay me yet will I 
trust in Him, ’ ” cried Good wife Brewster with 
streaming eyes, as they brought back the com- 
forting tidings. 

It had been the intention to keep the Sabbath 
on shore, as most of the grown people were 
there, but the Rendezvous being without a cover- 
ing, they returned to the ship bringing John 
Goodman with them ; and after the good news 
had been told, while our hearts were too charged 
with thankfulness for speech, Mr. Brewster said, 
“ Let us give God thanks,” and we poured out 
our souls’ full tide of gratitude to God the Giver 
of all our good ; and at morning service, the time 
being near, he preached to us from 1 John Y : 14. 

And this is the confidence that we have in 
Him, that if we ask anything according to His 
will He heareth us.” 

Thus that which promised to be a great grief 
181 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEJR BOOK. 


unto us, beyond all that we had passed through, 
overruled by God, is but another proof of His 
unspeakable love to us, confirming our faith in 
Him as a prayer-hearing, and prayer-answering 
God ; so although this is a cold, rainy day, dark 
and gloomy without, our hearts are warm and 
cheerily bright with the perpetual sunlight of 
God’s love let down into them. 

Swalloiv^s Nest, Plymouth, Thursday Jan. 18. 

On land — at home — my Cariad, could any- 
thing be more joyful ? Sitting here in our new 
log-house, mud-daubed in the wide chinks, that 
still gape in places, with the sun setting in a 
purple mist that was first golden, then very 
red, — changing from glory to glory, — at the 
close of three days of sunshine and warmth, like 
April in Holland without its fitful showers, I am 
so happy and thankful. 

“ My singing bird,” said father to-day, coming 
as I sat rocking Peregrine, and unconsciously 
humming one of the old-time tunes I used to 
sing with David and Mary, “ I am glad to hear 
you tuning your pipes again, for you have been 
out of Bird’s Nest so long, I feared you had for- 
gotten how to sing. What are you going to 
182 


FAITH WHITENS EE T TEE BOOK. 


name tins new, poor ' house of ours, where if 
Christ will but come, and abide our honored 
guest, we may be happier than ever before ? ’’ 

I could think of nothing more appropriate 
than Swallow’s Nest, — so like the old, familiar 
name as possible, and quite similar to those 
thatch-roofed houses under the eaves, where the 
restless birds chirp and flutter, topple out and 
balance themselves ; whence, having learned the 
wise ways of the bird-world, they dip, swimj and 
circle, in endless, mazy flight. 

So Swallow’s Nest it has been christened, and 
if the Heavenly Dove come herein as comforter, 
bringing balm for our griefs, and shedding peace 
into our oft-troubled hearts, in* the shadow of His 
ways will we rejoice evermore. 

I brought mother’s rose-tree from off the ship, 
and it stands beside me on the rough window- 
sill • — strange window that it is, yet already 
beautifully homelike to my eyes, having but one 
pane of glass, and the rest of the rude sash filled 
with oiled paper, very good in its imperfectness to 
admit both air and light, but not quite trans- 
parent. 

By the side of the rose is the favorite gera- 
nium Mrs. Winslow brought with her, in memory 
183 


FAJTJEE WHITENS EETTEJt BOOK, 


of the many hosts of flowers in her vine-covered 
home in Leyden, and to me, every blanched leaf 
is written over with memories of your dear self, 
because of the care you gave it, helping little 
Sunshine in her love’s labor of tending it. And 
the geranium still lives, and you — ah ! yes, you 
live too. 

The rose-bush is full of buds, and one, just 
trying to expand as I brought it away, has taken 
new and bright tints, and opened wide its warm 
heart to the sunshine, and in full bloom is drink- 
ing in the light ; while each glad leaf lifting a 
gleeful face sunward, and dancing in the warm 
south-wind, seems to say “ I thank you ! ” 

This is the first rose that has bloomed since 
leaving Holland, except the pale, sickly one that 
unfolded the day you were called to God’s gar- 
den of delight, which, together with geranium 
leaves, I laid in your dead fingers ; and this red 
blossom calls you very near to Swallow’s Nest to- 
night, and I seem to breathe faintly the odors 
wafted from the fountain of gardens, laden with 
fruits, where you rest among lilies. 

In my longing to share these pleasures with 
you and mine, that through these floral associa- 
tions seems to be a little — ever so little — 
184 


wsite^s eetteh book. 


granted me, I look into the heart of the red rose, 
and into the violet eyes of a purple pansy, that 
does not disdain to bloom royally under this 
thatched roof, and my gaze draws back an answer 
from the dumb life sealed within, which finds 
utterance only in fragrance and beauty: and 
these flowers — all leaves and flowers — seem to 
me as a sensible and palpable expression of God’s 
out-reaching love, to the love and beauty, and the 
love of beauty, that He breathed into our sur- 
charged bodies, when man became a living soul : 
His own kisses, that are to meet us as glad sur- 
prises morning and evening, every hour and each 
moment, — like His sweet, tender thoughts flow- 
ing to us ward. 

Mrs. Winslow came on shore with mother and 
me ; and since Mr. Hopkins’ house was as nearly 
completed as ours, — we can watch the stars from 
either, through the crevices in the walls and roof 
as we lie on our pillows at night, — and all were 
well but Oceanus — poor little storm-bird ! — 
they also came on shore yesterday, bringing Mrs. 
Martin with them, who has spent this day of sun- 
light at the graves of her husband and nephew. 

Little Sunshine and Constantia Hopkins have 
been running back and forth all day, revelling in 
185 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEB BOOH 


the healing light and rest on land. But when I 
took your cherished and cherishing sister to your 
grave, and we laid green mosses over the bare, 
dark clods, the sorrow came back, and the tired, 
wistful look, that she has worn so much of late, 
crept into her face, and she threw herself in my 
arms sobbing that she wanted to die, too, and be 
laid at your feet ; nor would she be satisfied till I 
had promised to put mosses over her grave, and 
the sweet wild flowers that would come up from 
the cold ground after she was laid in it. 

But I* hope that in running wild 'over the hills 
with Constantia Hopkins, who is full of life and 
happy beyond expression, she will forget the 
haunting fancies of death that have clung to us 
on board sliip, and be our Sunshine indeed, — for 
I could illy spare the little sister, that you gave 
me with dying lips, even to you. 

Mr. Billington’s family are also on shore, occu- 
pying a house by themselves, as no one was will- 
ing to go ill with them. It is a strange fact that 
amidst - all our sea-sickness, suffering and death, 
not one of this family has had a pain or ache ; 
but have been always well, and boastingly scorn- 
ful in their health and strength, as if disease 


186 


FAITH WHITF^S ZETTER BOOK, 

dared not touch them. So wicked as they are, so 
unprepared for death, how good it is in God to 
be thus merciful and long-suffering ! 

And how full of comfort beyond expression, is 
it to us as we pass along the line of graves to 
think that as yet not one has died without being 
able to give a reason for the hope that is in him, 
that although he pillows his head on a turfy clod, 
yet in the spirit shall he behold the Father of 
spirits. 

Mr. Brewster’s family are to come on shore 
next week, also Mr. Allerton’s household, bring- 
ing with them Bose Standish ; and I think when 
that magnet comes. Little Sunshine will have 
more eye-sparkles than now, and Captain Stan- 
dish forget some of his dark, glowering looks. 

Mary Chilton came in the first boat this morn- 
ing with Mr. Mulbins’ family, and they will all 
live in the house with Mr. Hopkins, as Mr. Mul- 
bins has been too feeble ever since we came to 
Plymouth Harbor, to do anything for himself. 
Mary has just been up to her parents’ graves, 
and she just came down from the consecrated 
height with tear-filled eyes ; and poor cousin 
Samuel was clinging to Mary’s hand, as if a com- 


187 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEE BOOK. 

mon grief bound them in close sympathy, — both 
orphans now, with only God for their father. 

Only God did I say ? Having Him — resting 
in Him, what can we need or want beside ? 


188 


CHAPTER XIV. 


t: 


Swallow^ s Nest, Saturday, January 20. 

the close of one of the brightest weeks 
I ever knew, I can do no more, no less, 
than write something in remembrance 
of the sweet sunshine that has flooded earth, and 
filled and blessed us, making our peace to flow 
like a river. 

It rained awhile yesterday afternoon, so that 
the men could not work ; but with father and Mr. 
Winslow at home, and uncle Samuel here, — 
only Mrs. Kigdale on ship being very sick, — we 
spent so pleasant a day and evening, — drawing 
closely together round the bright, sparkling fire, 
that roared up the wide-mouthed chimney, thus 
filling up the gaps death had made, and shutting 
out the thought that he might come soon again, 
— that in my evening prayer I forgot all con- 
189 


Jb'JjrTS: WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


fession of sin, in thanking God for the hindering 
rain. 

Towards evening John Goodman went out to 
use his feet that are still badly swollen. His lit- 
tle spaniel, that accompanied him in his wander- 
ings before, followed also this time, and they had 
gone but a little ways from the plantation, when 
he saw two great wolves that immediately ran af- 
ter the dog. Poor little Fido, a universal favorite 
with all, not relishing the idea of coming to 
America to be ingloriously devoured by wolves, 
ran to his master for protection, who, being able 
to move but slowly on account of his feet^ took 
up a stick, and throwing it, hit one of them. 
For a moment both fled like cowards, but turned 
again soon, and as he said when telling of it, — 
“They came close up to me, and sat on their 
tails, grinning at me a good while, but seeing I 
had gathered a pale-board that had been sawed 
for paling in the gardens, they finally went their 
way and left me.” 

• Before he could get near enough to the planta- 
tion to rouse the men, who at once went in pur- 
suit, the evening shadows had settled, and they 
saw nothing of the wolves. 

To-day they made a shed, where they propose 

190 


FAITH WHITE’S EETTEB BOOK, 


to stow the goods that are rapidly being brought 
from the ship, and to-morrow we are to have 
a meeting in the Rendezvous, that now, newly 
thatched, and cleared of much of the storage, is 
a very comfortable house in which to worship the 
. Lord our God, who has brought us hither to this 
goodly land stretching away in infinite beauty to 
the mysterious west ; a land that at some future 
day, — perhaps when some letter-book writer 
dates Anru) Domini 3000 — may be filled with 
multitudes of happy homes, redeemed" from the 
wilderness by hands made strong in the conscious- 
ness of freedom, right, and secure possession. 

Is it a dream — a vain dream, that I shall 
never look from over the jasper walls of the City 
of the great King, and see realized ? Is it only 
the fancy of a wild imagination — a soul filled 
to the brim with gladness and enthusiasm, be- 
cause we rest at home, and the Death-Angel 
stalks no more boldly in our midst ? And the 
sunlight slants down, on new-made graves indeed, 
but in our hearts, too, and the rose-buds open, 
and nod their regal heads to the blue-eyed, 
winking pansies, appareled most royally ? 

If so it be, let me thus dream then to-night, 
all the sweet night long, till the gray, chill morn- 
191 


FAITH WHITENS lETIEIt BOOK, 


ing comes, and wakens me, as it will, if I do but 
dream. 


SwaHow^s Nest, Thursday, January 25. 

We kept our meeting on land last Sabbath as 
we anticipated, Mr. Brewster came from the ship, 
bringing Goodwife Brewster with him, whom we 
persuaded to stay with us, though she was very 
loth to leave “Jamie, my baby,’’ as she calls 
him, for a single night. 

So she* abode with us two days, her very 
presence consecrating and beautifying these rough 
walls, — her life a practical exposition of Elder 
Brewster’s text on Sabbath — “ Great peace have 
they that love thy law.” A sermon full of com- 
fort that we already need, for although this week 
is passing us by, bright, warm and beautiful as 
the last, and it would seem that we ought to be 
cheerful in the glad greeting with our friends as 
they come on shore from the ship — our few days 
of absence seeming as months — yet the wehr- 
wolf, death, has again been greedily snatching his 
prey out of our fold. 

Mrs. Rigdale and Mrs. Eaton, the latter a 
young wife, were brought on shore in coffin-beds, 
and in solemn procession we followed them up 
192 


FAITH WniTE>S ZETTFIt BOOK. 


the hill of hope, and laid by this earthly house, 
whence the Holy Ghost, who once had his temple 
there, had departed. For Alice Rigdale, sorrow- 
ing over the husband of her youth, and gone to 
him in his perpetual youth, where none grow old, 
we cannot mourn. And over the grave of Mrs. 
Eaton, who in perfect trust committed her sud- 
denly-called soul into Christ’s hands, we see a 
rainbow of promise through our thick-dropping 
rain of tears. 

Sad as is the thought, we can no longer con- 
ceal from ourselves the fact that many are very 
ill, and instead of gaining since being brought on 
land, they seem to fail hourly ; nor can we escape 
the growing conviction pressed home to our 
hearts, that among the number are little Sun- 
shine, and Jamie Moore, your brother and 
sister, my Cariad. 

We did not realize how the former was fail- 
ing — we shut our eyes and would not see ; but 
when Rose Standish came on shore, she was so 
startled at the change of a few days, — days in 
which so much happiness has been compressed, 
that our full hearts were heaped-up, and ran 
over, — that it roused us to perceive, unwillingly, 
that the wan face was thinner and paler, and the 
193 


FAITJBE WHITE’S ZETTEJR BOOK. 


bright red spot on her cheek an unhealthful flush. 
And in turn, we all noticed that spite of Good- 
wife Brewster’s most tender motherly care, little 
Jamie had failed rapidly since we left the ship. 

I cannot make it seem possible that they are 
to die, — but in chastening love, with God all 
things are possible. Does that sound like mur- 
muring ? I did not so mean it. “ Thy will be 
done,” is fast becoming the easiest petition of my 
prayers. 

And another one is going from us, — another 
besides Mr. John Goodman, “ Who will lose him- 
self no more in wild, dark forests,” Dr. Fuller 
says, “ but walk soon the golden streets ; and no 
ravening beast shall go up therein, but the re- 
deemed of the Lord shall walk there.” 

I write slowly and hesitatingly, for I am 
scarcely willing to acknowledge to myself, that it 
is set down among the unchangeable decrees, that 
our Faire Rose Standish is soon to fade and die. 
But so it is, uncle Samuel says, and, except for 
her husband’s sake, she has expressed her glad 
willingness to be transplanted into His kingdom 
who says of Himself, “ I am the. rose of Sharon, 
and the lily of the valleys.” 

But one dared to intimate the truth to Cap- 
194 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 

tain Standish, as his wife had requested, till Mr. 
Bradford, — mindful of “ my May,” snatched out 
of life without a moment’s warning, making 
earth to him as if a trumpet had sounded, and 
the sun and moon were darkened, and the stars 
fell from heaven, — after much prayer, went yes- 
terday and told him his sad errand. 

It was a great shock, and the whole force of 
his un tempered nature rebelled. He laid his 
hand on his sword as though a bugle had blared 
with no uncertain sound, and striding up and 
down, swore that he would dispute possession, 
inch by inch with Death himself, — as if there 
really were some grim, grizzly monster called 
Death, — some Apollyon with whom he could 
measure weapons, and by prowess made superior 
in the might of his wrath, snatch victory from 
the very jaws of defeat. 

Unheeding — perhaps in the might of his pas- 
sion not hearing — Mr. Bradford’s words of sym- 
pathy, he strode away into the forest, and came not 
near till evening, when he entered Mr. Allerton’s 
cabin, and greeted his wife with a calm, resolute 
smile that told not of his day’s struggling with 
the powers that be for her life, so that she feared 


195 


FAITM WHITENS EETTEB BOOK. 


Mr. Bradford had not found courage to tell him 
her impending fate. 

To-day he stalks restlessly through the planta- 
tion, glaring defiantly around at any noise, as if 
he were eager to try his strength with any foe, — 
even to rush defiantly against the thick bosses of 
God’s buckler, but pitifully tender in his devotion 
to his wife and little Sunshine, whose two lives 
seem to be so bound in one bundle, that we took 
the latter over to Mr. Allerton’s to-day, that while 
both live, they may enjoy, that speechless com- 
munion — soul speaking to soul — which seems 
to be sustenance to both. 

Johnny is very glad to make the exchange, 
and be at our house with mother, and his favorite 
Peregrine, on whom he seems to feel he has a 
new claim, in virtue of the baby brother given 
him and taken so soon away, for whom he has 
searched vainly, many an hour, on earth and 
in air, and asked innumerable, unsatisfied ques- 
tions, as to how and whither he had gone, and 
insists that some day he will go and find him. 

God grant he may, but not yet — not yet. 

Swallow^ s Nest, Monday, Jan. 29. 

If it is to you I am writing, my Cariad, and 
196 


faith; whitens lettee booh. 


Heaven seems very near me to-day, with only a 
thin vail of cloud between that any breath may 
blow aside, — I need not write that our Little 
Sunshine is ours no longer, but that her little 
light, which flamed for a brief season, then flared 
and flickered in life’s windy storm, has gone out, 
and now is merged in the great Sun of Right- 
eousness ; that face to face, with a bared arm and 
stoutly rebellious heart. Captain Standish met 
the conqueror and was conquered : and all that 
was mortal of Rose Standish and Little Sunshine, 
rests side by side in one wide coffin, made from a 
piece of furniture in the Rendezvous, ready for 
burial on the morrow, and there Captain Stan- 
dish keeps his lone tryst with the victorious 
spoiler. 

If that omnipresent destroyer had not been 
among us so many times — if he were not to-day 
knocking imperatively at the door of many a 
chilling heart on shore and ship, we should sit 
dumb and still under the common, heaviest 
stroke, but God has given us so much to do for 
others, if happily they may yet be spared, that 
we cannot stop even to think, — only pray with 
hushed hearts for Captain Standish, who, never 
having learned submission, is now chafing and 
197 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEIt BOOK. 


raving in insane passion over this terrible blow — 
a passion all the more dreadful because of its 
utter helplessness, and because of its long repres- 
sion, more violent. 

For although he could possibly have had no 
hope of her recovery for days, yet he controlled 
himself for her sake, never uttering a word of 
his bitter hate for the Spoiler, and watched her 
triumphant march through the dark valley, with 
calm grief and dejectedness, as though every step 
were not bearing his heart’s one idol hopelessly 
from him, and each fainter growing breath 
piercing his heart like a sword. 

But finally, when the silver cord was gently 
loosed, and the golden bowl irredeemably broken : 
when life’s full pitcher was shattered and spilled 
at the fountain, and its sweet waters gathered 
into the eternal Fountain of all living waters, — 
then the covered, smouldering fires of his impo- 
tent rage burst forth, furious in their unchecked 
freedom, and he was ready to arraign all the 
powers of heaven, earth, and hell, — to curse 
God and die. Poor Captain Standish ! 

It was a very touching* sight to see Jamie’s 
parting with Little Sunshine. Mr. Brewster car- 
ried him to he^ on this last day of her life, as she 
198 


FAITH WHITE’S EE T TEH BOOK. 

failed little by little, her light going out like the 
setting sun, so that we, watching every breath, 
scarcely knew when her earth-life ended, and her 
life without end began. Jamie did not cry or 
seem frightened, but asked to be laid beside her, 
and when he had hugged and kissed her, he said 
his prayers as if he were going to sleep for the 
night, and turning his face to the wall closed his 
tearless eyes. 

But his brother Richard — soon to be the only 
one left of four — sobbed and cried in uncon- 
trollable grief, burying his head in Goodwife 
Brewster’s lap, or clinging to Captain Standish’s 
hand, as though his soul surcharged with sorrow, 
found relief in spmpathy with this other more 
billowy spirit. 

But your God and ours, and the God of his 
father and mother, in whom you all rest to-day, 
shall soon fill that lone orphan’s heart with com- 
fort. 


199 


CHAPTER XY. 







Swallow^s Nest, Monday, Feb, 5. 

E have buried our dead out of our 
sight, and the white snow lies deep 
on the sod so oft upturned, as we 
went forth weeping, bearing our precious seed, 
and committed it to earth in confident waiting for 
the Lord of Harvest. 

The last was a drear week of rain and sleet, of 
foes without and foes within — the cold and the 
sickness. It has added not a little to our many 
discomforts, — our lack of wood and water near 
by — to be still in open houses, filled as several 
are to overflowing* with the sick, and they have 
decided to use the Rendezvous as a sick-tioiise 
for those men who have no immediate relatives to 
care for them, since it is tighter, larger, and less 
exposed to the weather. 

^ The Indians have again been seen, this time on 
200 


FAITM WjB:ITE>S joettee book. 


Clark’s Island, near the ship, — for what purpose 
there we can only conjecture, hut hope they do 
not suspect our weakened state, and come to spy 
it out, ready to gather in one great army those 
thousands of fearless warriors that liave been 
said to be on this coast, and fall upon us, for 
what has become of these multitudes of savages, 
or why they are so shy of us, unless hostile, we 
do not know. 

. But this coming revived our fears, and a sub- 
ject that has before been discussed in whispers 
only, and the men met in the Rendezvous on 
Saturday evening, to consult as to the sad neces- 
sity of levelling the tell-tale graves, and so hide 
our fast-growing weakness from our enemies. 

There are very few among us that have not 
already committed choicest trusts to this field of 
death, and the hungry monster is not yet satis- 
fied, so it could be but a painful discussion to all. 
Not that we are superstitious, or doubt God’s 
ability, and will to care for, and gather our scat- 
tered dust, but beside a grave where sleeps the 
mortal part of a loved one, there lingers yet a 
sense of nearness, and in some happier moments 
a feeling of possession, — so that the thought of 


201 


FAITH WHITENS ZETTEB BOOK. 


giving up their graves was like burying them 
again, and cost us many quiet tears. 

After several opinions had been given, Captain 
Standish, who has scarcely spoken a word to any 
one since his wife died, stalked quite unexpected- 
ly into their midst, and advocated the utter demoli- 
tion of all the graves, as a stern necessity ad- 
mitting no alternative ; especially as many of the 
sailors on whom we might have relied for help, 
were quite ill on board ship, and would doubtless 
die. 

It was done to-day, and the smooth hill-side, 
where the snow, fast falling, is spreading a pall, 
tells no story of our losses. 

Thou hast no grave, my Cariad ! It cannot 
disquiet thee in the unmeasured bliss and perfect 
repose of the many mansions — why should it 
perturb our hearts that are but dust and ashes ? 
‘‘ For if we believe that Jesus died and rose 
again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus 
will God bring with him.’’ 

A terrible storm raged all day yesterday, with 
the heaviest gusts of wind we have ever experi- 
enced since coming to this harbor, shaking our 
houses heavy as they are, so that much of the 
clay mortar fell down, exposing us more than 
202 


FAITS WHITE’S EETTEE BOOK. 


before. But it was far worse on the ship, for 
most of the goods had been taken out, and lack- 
ing ballast she careened and lurched heavily, 
quite at the mercy of the winds and waves. 
They were really in great danger, and those of 
our company still on board ship — mostly the 
very sick too ill to bring on shore — suffered 
severely : while we on land, burdened at heart 
with a sense of our complete helplessness, could 
only gather together, a little band, in the Rendez- 
vous half-filled with sick men, and pray to the 
All-Powerful for deliverance and submission. 

But in the midst of our sad meeting. Elder 
Brewster was called out to say good bye to little 
Jamie, who wanted to take a kiss from him to 
Little Sunshine ; while on ship, near the same 
time as we learned to-day, John Langemore 
breasted the billows of the dark-rolling river of 
death, and as we trust, landed safely on the 
» shores of the Better Land. 

Uncle Samuel just came in and said in his 
quaint, comforting way, ‘‘John Goodman is no 
longer lost, but found, and led into the light and 
rest of heaven, where he halteth feebly no longer, 
but hasteth with swift feet to run in the way of 
God’s commandments.” 


203 


FAITH WHITE’S LETTER BQOK. 


Two more orphans, Joseph and Priscilla Mul- 
bins, bereaved of their staff and stay, cry out, 
“ Our Father which art in heaven ! ” partly in 
submissive prayer as Christ commanded, and 
part in agony of grief for their earthly father, 
gone to be with his and their eternal parent. 

0 Thou whose years fail not. Thou only know- 
est that which I shrink from mentioning, as if it 

• might kindle an idea in the mind of Omnipo- 
tence — how many of these fathers of ours now 
smitten with sickness, and which of them, soon 
or at length. Thou wilt also call to Thyself. For- 
give the selfishness of my prayer, 0 All-Forgiv- 
ing, and heed only the lOve that implores, and 
supplicates Thee to let it not be my father — not 
mine, 0 Jehovah. 

Swallow's Nest, Friday, Febuary 9. 

1 have persuaded mother to let me try to write 
a few words, penning with a tremulous hand 
what may be my last letter to you, — how sweetly 
strange it seems, to think that it may indeed be 
so ! — for lying here sick, with death flitting 
like a phantom through every house, I feel his 
presence by me, and can only guess whether it 
is a warning to be soon ready, or a reminder of 
his final, inevitable coming. 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


“ The Lord’s will be done,” I keep trying to 
say of myself, but if I only could go now, when 
it is so easy to cut loose from earth, and the very 
thought of the tedious days and nights of getting 
better is a burden, — that I must live, and so 
many here no longer ! If I could to-day but lay 
my weak hand in Death’s strong one, — he seems 
to me as one of God’s good angels — and go 
away, away — but then, God’s will be done. 

Father lies in a bod near, breathing heavily, 
and almost strangled by frequent spasms of 
coughing. Paul and Peregrine are tossing in 
burning fever ; and cousin Samuel, watching and 
waiting on them like the gentle nurse that he is, 
is far from well. They say, too, that William 
Holbeck, our servant, lies dying in the Sick- 
house, pressing fast on whither Mrs. Martin has 
just gone, having so soon met her husband and 
nephew in a happier home than was their loved 
Billerica on England’s shores. 

Mr. Winslow is scarcely able to move around, 
and dear Mrs. Winslow helps my overburdened 
mother as much as she can, carrying a face like 
a Psalm in every house of affliction, but I see it 
convulse with pain now and then, as she presses 
her hand to her side ; and though she says “ It is 
205 


A 


JFAITH WMITE^S JLETTEB. BOOK. 

nothing of any importance,” I know she too is 
smitten. 

I miss Johnny’s face, and they tell me that he 
lies beside his mother, both very ill. With 
Richard by her side, unconscious or raving in 
his delirium about Jamie and Little Sunshine, 
Goodwife Brewster between her paroxysms of 
pain, repeats her favorite Psalms, and calls on her 
soul to bless the Lord and not forget His benefits. 

All Mr. Hopkins’ household are sick, and Mr. 
and Mrs. Billington lie shrieking in mortal pain 
and terror, with that ‘‘ fearful looking for,” which 
those who do not love God often experience, when 
death and the judgment stare them in the face ; 
and the poor frightened boys, able to do nothing 
for them, cower and shiver in fear by the fire. 

We have lacked many things that might re- 
lieve, and perhaps recover some of us, our stock, 
and variety of provisions being low ; and the few 
men able to hunt or fish having no time to spare 
from tending the sick; and although Mr. Brad- 
ford himself asked Captain Jones for a little 
beer, of which he knew they had a supply on 
board, it was refused him. But the Master came 
on shore yesterday and killed some wild geese, 


206 


faith: whitens letter book. 

and the Ruler of all hearts put it into his heart 
to give us a goodly portion for our sick, which 
revived some not a little. 

He reports four of our men on ship as danger- 
ously ill, past recovery he thinks, also many of 
his crew ; and uncle Samuel, confined to the bed 
for several days, spite of all remonstrances, got 
up and went to them. 

Scarcely a dozen of our company are able to 
be up and about, so that finally, after a few happy 
days, we all seem to be nearing the earthly end, 
and endless heavenly beginning. No longer does 
it seem to me sad that a handful of the Father’s 
dear children — after long communion in suffer- 
ing, and much enjoyment in walking together the 
way Jesus trod before — should come here to die, 
as at God’s direction Moses went up to Mount 
Nebo, overlooking the promised land that he was 
not to enjoy: and his earthly house buried by 
angel-hands with more than regal honors, in a 
grave that no man knoweth, his spirit disen- 
* thralled from its clay prison-house, soared away 
to the better land of promise. 

I have been hours writing this, and mother 
says now, “ No more, dear Faith,” and in my 


207 


FAITH WHITE’S TETTEM BOOK. 


utter weariness I am ready to bid you good 
night,” to whom my next greeting may be a spo- 
ken ‘‘ good morning,” where there comes no 
night. 0, if it could be so ! 

208 . f 

■ y 






CHAPTER XVI. 


Swallow's Nest, Friday, Feb. 16. 


(M 



Y Cakiad ; — One week ago I seemed 
so near to you, and the land that is 
said to be “ very far off,” and they 
tell me that since then I have drawn nearer still, 
but the two succeeding days after my last date 
are a blank to me. Now I am fast getting better, 
as many others of our sick are, and I take up my 
pen as I do the burden of living — too weary and 
weak to be more than half-glad, and that only 
because God willed it so ; yet, this sense of new 
life tingling in every nerve and vein is very pleas- 
ant, as I lie and dreamily watch the sunlight 
streaming in through the one pane of glass on 
the south side of the house — albeit it shines on 
new-made graves. 

The four sick men on ship are well again — 
but they are where no one saith “ I am sick ” 
209 


FAITS WMITE^S ZETTEB BOOK. 


any more. Our servant has gone there too, and 
Mr. Allerton’s, — six men in all. TIiq Reaper 
Death gathered the ripe grain in this last harvest. 

Several of the sailors have also died. Wretch- 
ed, miserable creatures that they are, as soon as 
disease broke out aftnong them, forgetful of their 
companionship in sin, they deserted each other, 
letting the sick lie unhelped and uncared for in 
their filthy cabins. 

But though for three days last week there were 
only seven able to be up. Elder Brewster, Captain 
Standish, — who courts death and cannot die, — 
mother and Priscilla Mulbins, Mr. Francis Cooke, 
and a girl in Mr. Tilly’s family. Humility Cooper, 
yet every day one of the three men went to the 
ship, attending to the physical wants of the 
sailors, and talked and prayed with them, till the 
wicked but kind-hearted boatswain cried out re- 
morsefully to Wrestling Brewster, who had min- 
istered to his wants, and prayed God to spare his 
life if it was His holy will, and if not to cleanse 
his soul and prepare it for death, judgment and 
heaven : — I do not deserve this at your hands. 
I have cursed at, and mocked you, and abused 
you in every way I could. 0, sir, you Puritans 
that I have so despised, act to each other, and 
210 


FAITU WSITE^S FETTER BOOK, 


US, like Christians indeed ; but • we let each other 
lib and die like dogs.” 

He was not to recover however, and two days 
ago he died, but though late in his repentance, 
like the dying thief, we trust that Jesus spoke 
comfort and forgiveness to his sin-sick soul, and 
that the poor boatswain has met his Christian 
mother in heaven, whose counsels and warnings 
he said he had never been able to shake off ; and 
met, too, the baby over whose dead face he shed 
such bitter tears. 

Mrs. Allerton and Johnny are “ both going to 
find the lost baby-brother ” we fear ; and uncle 
Samuel made much worse by his visit to the ship, 
talks of studying soon under the Great Physician. 
Over our own family death has so far passed, and 
all are apparently out of danger, father being 
much easier than a week ago, sitting up now 
nearly all the time. 

And I live ! I was indeed glad that I had 
lived, when I woke from my long stupor, the 
crisis past, and father, staggering to my bedside, 
kneeled down and thanked God that the destroy- 
ing-angel, seeing on the lintel the blood of so 
many of his lambs sprinkled there within the 
past year, had gone by, and spared his first-born. 

211 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


My life had saved one pang from his tender, 
overburdened heart, and with no new furrow 
made in the hill-side for any of my dearest ones, 
life for myself, with my father living too, seemed 
a good gift, to be accepted from the Life-Giver, 
with somewhat of thankfulness palpitating in my 
heart. 

Governor Carver and his wife are better, and 
Goodwife Brewster abounding in praise that God 
has recovered her, and she may yet greet her 
absent children on earth. 

Dear Patience ! How she would have mourned 
her mother’s loss, and how glad are we that so 
many of our dear ones staid in Holland escaping 
this fiery trial of our faith, and baptism of suffer- 
ing. 

Mary Chilton, well again and just gone from 
here, is watching with Priscilla over Mrs. Mul- 
bins, lying at death’s door, “ Waiting like my- 
self,” uncle Samuel said a moment ago, “ at the 
porch Bethesda, for the good angel to come down 
and disturb the healing waters of the fountain, 
that I may plunge in and be cured evermore.” 

But, human-like we pray that he, and Mr. 
Tinker’s and Tilly’s families, every member of 
whom is ill, may live to drink of earth’s bitter 
212 


FAITH WHITE’S LETTEB BOOK, 


fountains, — where we thrist, drink, and are 
never satisfied, which we yet are so unwilling to 
leave. 

A man out hunting to-day, when about a mile 
and a half from the plantation, saw twelve In- 
dians cautiously defiling in this direction, and 
heard the voices of many more in the woods. 
Describing a circuit that he might not come in 
contact with them, he hurried in and gave the 
alarm ; the men at once armed themselves, and 
cleaned and prepared their guns, which in the 
great distress they had neglected. ^Captain Stan- 
dish, and another man working with him in the 
woods, left their tools in their haste, and when 
well-armed, they returned for them the tools 
were gone. 

They saw no Indians however, but as I close 
this long letter, written at intervals, I see the 
blue smoke of their fires curling up against the 
sapphire sky, showing that they are camped not 
more than two miles distant ; therefore several of 
our men, weak and weary from disease and labor 
as they are, will stand guard to-night, and pace 
up and down in the night air, through the long 
hours. 


213 


FAITH WHITE’S lETTEM BOOK. 


Plymouth, Wednesday, Feb. 21. 

I do not write in Swallow’s Nest this golden 
afternoon, but sitting under the pine trees that 
whisper to each other sweet secrets of the pre- 
cious dust over which they alone keep guard, — a 
place about to be made doubly consecrated to me, 
for father, my own best father, is soon to sleep 
here also. 

One moment I think I fully realize that the 
destroying angel turned. on his blood-marked 
track, and smote better than the first-born, and 
that my weeks and years — that for his life’s sake 
I was almost rejoicing over when last I wrote — 
must stretch on and on, and I am to climb the 
steeps of life, and thread its dark, lone valleys 
without him by my side. But the next moment 
consciousness falls short of the reality, and I say 
to myself — “It is but a dream — just a sad 
dream ! My father cannot be dead ! ” 

Looking back now I see how it was that I 
blinded myself, and would not see. In that 
bright, warm week of joy — every moment of 
which is a blessed memory to me, — when some- 
times in the midst of our cheerful talk he would 
have an attack of coughing, and I would go to 
him, and stroking his hair thick-threaded with 
214 


faith: WHITE’S lETTEB BOOK. 


silver lines, ask him about it, worrying and griev- 
ing over his failing health, and old age creeping 
on him, he would say, “ Ah ! yes, mother, do you 
hear that ? Our little daughter Faith has grown 
so womanly and quiet, so grave and matronly, 
that she thinks me old and infirm, as her favorite 
Shakespeare says, ‘ In the sere and yellow leaf/ 
She will no doubt come to me some of these 
days, and getting behind me where I cannot see 
her face, say hesitatingly that she wants to marry 
and leave me, going away to some little hum- 
ming bird’s nest of her own ! ” 

All which I knew could never, never be, my 
Cariad, but teased somewhat, and speechless be- 
tween an agony of fear, and hope that was 
scarcely the shadow of hope, I would continue to 
fondle him, and smothering him with kisses that 
he might say no more, tell him in this mute way 
that I was always to be his song-bird only, and 
stay at home with him, the dearest of all dear 
fathers. So I stifled, and tried to shake off the 
conviction haunting me, that it was not age, nor 
care that was wasting and weakening his once 
strong arm, and dimming his eye ; but uncon- 
querable disease, leading him gently but sensibly 
on, to a crown of glory for him indeed, but for 

21a 


FAJLTH WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


US — - for us what God knows it is best we should 
have. 

But mother has been conscious of it all along, 
and weeks ago yielded him up in spirit, and God 
has strengthened her brave heart, and undis- 
mayed by this out-look on death, she has faced 
life before her so dark and drear with no pro- 
tector ; one brother here in his narrow house, and 
the other daily growing weaker. 

Such is her trust in God, and my own resigna- 
tion, — so different from anything I have known 
before, — seems to be what the Chastiser wishes 
in me, — a quiet grief that spends its strength 
in tears, — and once in a while, for his sake, 
rises to thanksgiving because my father has laid 
by the burdens of his flesh, and gone to his ex- 
ceeding and eternal weight of glory. 

If this is the lesson I was to learn, and have 
been so slow to acquire, from these oft-repeated 
strokes, will God send another ? 

But yet I had never really thought that he 
would die ; — that my father could die, and I 
live without him, seemed impossible ! — and not 
till they wakened me at his request this morning, 
did I believe he was certainly called, or resign 


216 


fjlITh wsitf^s jletteh book. 


him. He was too weak then to talk, but after a, 
while he rallied and called me to him. 

“ I am surely going, dear child,” he said, 
“ going for a little while from you all that I love 
so well — how dearly only He who calls Himself 
Lord knows ; going from you, my singing bird, 
who chose to leave Holland, with its peace and 
plenty, and follow your father to these dreary 
wilds. You have had a solemn song of thanks- 
giving to sing this last year, little one, and you 
will soon again take up the sad burden of it — 
death — death. But' it is only for a little while, 
and I am going but a little way off.” 

Though your dear mother, and the baby Hope, 
sleep under the Nottinghamshire daises ; grand- 
father, Mary, and 'David in the green Leyden 
churchyard, and you will bury me here in an un- 
marked grave, do not think of us as severed, but, 
one family in Christ Jesus, gathered to our 
er the Great Head — for 1 shall meet them all 
there. And - what shall I say to them for you, 
my child ? ” 

All the 'messages I had wished to send ; all the 
iiihnitude of thoughts floatfiig to you ward, and 
heavenward, died on my lips, and I could only 
, “ Tell them to watch over, and wait for 
217 


murmur. 


FATTH WII1TF*8 JLBTm^Jt BOOK, 

me too, — but not long father. 0, 1 hope, not for 
a long while.’’ ' • 

My dear daughter,” he went on to say, “ ever 
since you, my first baby girl, was laid in my 
arms, you have been but a comfort and blessing 
to me, giving me never a pang or pain, and every 
day of your life I have thanked God for you.” 

How it smote me to the heart to hear him say 
this ! For it was not that I had been so good a 
daughter, for the remembrance of multitudes of 
wilful follies, and sins towards him, swept over my 
mind : but in dying, with father-love that yearned 
towards me, he had forgotten all my wayward- 
nesses, and remembered only the dutiful acts. 
And above my remorse and sorrow floated this 
sweet, God-sent thought, that such was Christ’s 
dying love to us so sinful, crying out in His self- 
forgetful anguish, even when forsaken of God, 
“ father, forgive them ; for they know not what 
they do.” 

“ God has been very good to give me strength 
and reason to tell you this, my lamb, and I have 
something else to. leave you for comfort. In my 
dressing-case is a letter, written to you by your 
own mother but a few days before she died, 
which she asked me to give to you, either at your 
218 


FAITS WHITENS LETTER BOOK, 


marriage, or, if it came before, at my death. 
The time has come, darling.” 

As I handed him the time-yellowed, priceless 
memento, he put it to his lips with a lover’s fond- 
ness, and caressed it reverently, tenderly, as if it 
were the dear hand that penned it — which he 
has clasped before now. 

“ Let me hold it till I am dead, dear Faith,” 
he whispered, “ then when I can do no more for 
the children left me in dying trust, unclasp my 
cold fingers, and take it and read it ; not liere in 
the house, but out in the sunshine, up under the 
spreading arms of the trees, where I shall soon 
be laid to rest, and where you can remember that 
we are all enfolded in the wide arms of infinite 
love. Don’t cry, my child : don’t grieve and fret, 
but live to bless and comfort your mother and 
Paul, and the baby-boy, as you have me.” 

Then he talked to mother, and Paul, and all 
of us, and kissed Peregrine again and again, and 
until n9on we sat, and watched the gray shadow 
of death stealing over the calm features, that still 
glowed with unutterable love ; when finally, — I 
think I realize it now — the strong staff was 
broken and the beautiful rod. 

So I took the letter from his thin, stiffening 
219 


FAITH WHITENS IE T TEE BOOK. 


fingers, and came out here by you to read it, tbxs 
precious letter of my mother’s that seems to me 
like dew let down from heaven on my fevered 
soul ; like her voice, and her love, reaching down 
to me, and wrapping round me. 

0 treasure above my choicest treasures ! How 
little did I think when I began this poor letter- 
book to some one I knew not, and lost almost as 
soon as found, that the first letter I should copy 
in it would be written by my darling mother’s 
hand, long since grown cold, and folded on her 
pulseless breast. 0 my mother, my mother 1 

My Precious, Eldest Daughter, Faith : — 

A dying mother, who is sitting just on the 
brink of the river of death, already feeling its 
chill waves drawing up round her, hears her 
child in the next room pleading with God for her 
life. 

The mother is myself — the child, you, dear 
Faith, — named Faith, my darling, because when 
first I saw your brown eyes, I gave you to the 
All-Faithful, in trust that He would be yours, 
you His ; and I believe He accepted my offering. 
You have been a dear child to me, my Faith, — 
how very near and dear God knows — and He 
220 


FAITH WHITENS TETTER BOOK. 


knows, too, how hard it was for. me to-day to 
darken your young years with this coming grief, 
your first great grief beyond power of earthly 
father or mother to assuage or prevent. 

And as I sit here this same afternoon with 
Paul fast asleep near me, and the ‘‘bonnie bairn,” 
as her grandfather calls her, sleeping on my 
breast, and hear you pleading — 0 God, please 
to let my dear mother live ! Please to let her 
get well and take care of me, and Paul, and the 
dear little baby! ” all the old agony of this strug- 
gle comes over me again, and I am saying, “ Not 
yet, 0 God, I cannot yet die ! ” 

I want you always to remember this afternoon, 
dear Faith. You sat with your sewing at my 
feet, — sewing for baby with those busy little 
fingers that have always delighted to do some- 
thing for those you love, — and I showed you the 
picture of John Rogers at the stake, wjth his 
helpless family gathered around, and I told you 
how in prison, the night before his execution, he 
wrote a letter for his children to read, after his 
white soul should liave ascended in triumph from 
the flame, to the rest and reward of heaven. 

Then, gently as possible, I tried to tell you 
how I also, was soon — very soon I think, — to 
221 


FAITH WHITE >S IE T TER BOOH. 


pass by a more quiet death to my eternal home — 
to meet my baby Hope and my mother. And 
you, as soon as you had comprehended what I 
meant, when the first gust of passionate grief 
was over, cried midst a flood of tears, and a rain 
of kisses, “ write me a letter, too, dear mother, 
to read,” and afterwards went away to ask for me 
the boon of life from the Life-Giver. 

But it is too late, my precious child. Life and 
health can come back to me no more, and only 
when my trust in God is weak, and the innocent 
faces of my children smile upon me, do I wish it. 
So you must be a mother to the dear little ones, 
as I know you will. You have thus promised, 
and have always done a mother’s part in your 
old-fashioned, womanly way — quite unlike the 
care-free childhood I could have wished for you. 

I write this letter to you, not to read soon, but 
if you live, at some time by and by, years 
hence, — that inevitable time when you shall so 
much wish you had a mother, — a mother’s heart 
to pour the swelling tide of yours into, — a 
mother’s love, stronger and more enduring than 
any other. 

I shall consign tliis to your father, to give to 
you, either at your marriage, or should he be 
222 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER ROOK. 


called from you ’ere then, at his death. In the 
former case, darling Faith, take with your mar- 
riage name and the priestly blessing, a benedic- 
tion from your mother, blessed above women 
with a fond husband that cherished her as she 
never deserved, through tlie brief checkered 
years of her married life — now so nearly ended. 

But should it seem best to God’s inscrutable 
will to summon your father to Himself before 
you have found a strong arm on which to lean, 
the Comforter only can speak consolation to you. 
And alas ! my child. He in His omniscience only 
knows whether you will more need comfort then 
than in the other case. 

My darling daughter, I do not want you, as 
you read, to cry out in bitterness of spirit, ‘‘ 0 
my mother, would you had lived ! ” For you 
have a love stronger than father or lover, passing 
the love of women, — the infinite tenderness of 
Jesus outstretching itself to you, overshadowing 
and sustaining you. Say this rather of me — 
‘‘ Her warfare is accomplished, her iniquity is 
pardoned : for she hath received of the Lord’s 
hand double for all of her sins.” 

Dear heart, a mother’s fiill heart that you 
never grieved, yearns towards you this day of 
223 


FAITM WSITE’S FETTER BOOK. 


April sunlight, as it always will, with an ever- 
growing fulness in the eternal noon of my com- 
ing life, to which this sunshine is but as night. 
Look up my child, always, and say, “I. have a 
mother in heaven.” 

Walk softly, anJ in all humility and heavenly 
graces before the Lord, and thou shalt be the 
King’s daughter, and the Lamb’s joyful bride, 
and finally come where I shall soon be — where 
I long to be — in the King’s palace to go no more 
out forever. 

Good bye, dearest child, a long good bye, till 
we meet and clasp each other where this sad 
word is never spoken. 

Your loving mother, 

.Mary White. 

Leyden^ April 13, 1611. 

My own glorified mother ! As I kiss the love- 
filled missive, and read over the tender words, all 
the chill clouds of life and death that have set- 
tled over me roll skyward, and I seem to myself 
to float and soar in the enduring warmth and 
halo of my mother’s love. No grief of mine 
that she knows not — no joy of my few joys that 
she does not share. Ever near, her breath is on 
224 


FAITH WHITENS EE T TEE BOOK. 


my’ cheek, her kisses on my lips, and her un- 
spoken consolations soothing my heart ; she is my 
mother still, waiting for me as I asked, — watch- 
ing over me as I wished. 

0 Thou Comforter, who hast sent peace and 
comfort into my innermost heart, I thank Thee. 
For this new manifestation of Thy undying 
love, — shining through the radiance of a moth- 
er’s love that had its strength and completeness 
in and from Thee, — I love Thee. 

Help me henceforth to walk softly before Thee, 
and towards Thee, till sometime, — it matters not 
when, but as Thou wiliest, — I shall be with 
Thee and among Thine evermore. 

225 


CHAPTER XYII. 


Swallow's Nest, Tuesday, Febmry 27. 

J take up my letter book as a rude casket 
containing a precious gem, — and as I 
read again what my blessed mother 
wrote, never dreaming how much it would bless 
her child, it matters not to me whether the north 
wind blows cold, or the east wind heeps up the 
waves on the shore, or the wind from the south 
sighs gently in warm breezes prophetic of spring, 
— for every glad and bright thing gathers around 
me, and a spirit whispers to my uplifted spirit, 
‘‘All things are yours, and ye are Christ’s and 
Christ is God’s. 

Is it my mother’s voice — my mother’s presence 
pervading all around me ? Will it ever leave me 
again, and I seek her in the cold dark, and cry 
vainly after the warmth and light of her com- 
muning soul ? 

I notice that in my self-absorption I have for- 
226 


x’AITb: wb:ite*s eettee book. 


gotten to mention some important events that 
occurred just before, and on the last day I wrote, 
a day of death, for besides father, and Johnny 
Allerton, a man named Richard Britteridge, and 
a servant of Mr. Mulbins died ; and yesterday we 
laid Mrs. Allerton near Johnny, of whom they 
say that, when lie lay moaning with pain, and his 
father took him in his arms, and told him he 
would soon “ find his dear brother, that was such 
a little baby and got lost,” he composed himself 
to sleep with the happy thought, and woke no 
more on earth — led gently heavenward by his 
Elder Brother who redeemed him, and there the 
lost was found. 

On Saturday the seventeenth, the next day 
after the fright from the Indians, the men met 
together to make arrangements as to the conduct 
of civil and military affairs, and formally elected 
Miles Standish as our Captain, and gave him sole 
authority in matters pertaining to defence against 
attack. While they were in consultation, two 
Indians appeared on the top of a hill less than a 
quarter of a mile distant, and made signs for our 
men to go to them, who in turn motioned the 
savages hither, but they would not come. So 
our men armed themselves, and stood ready, 
227 


FA.ITH: WSITE’S LETTER BOOK. 

while Captain Staiidish and Mr. Hopkins went to 
them. Captain Standi sh took a musket with 
him, and laid it on the ground as a sign of peace, 
but the Indians would not stay, but ran behind 
the hill, where from the voices they judged there 
were many more. 

The men were therefore anxious to plant their 
Ordnance, and on the next Wednesday,- — my 
father’s birthday into eternal life — Captain 
Jones, with all of his crew that were able, came 
on shore, bringing from the ship a heavy gun 
called a minion, which they dragged up Fort Hill 
and planted, with another gun that had previous- 
ly been brought on shore. 

After they had made this formidable show of 
strength, they invited the captain and sailors to 
dinner ; and sobered by the thought of nearly 
half their number filling graves on shore, and 
the memory of the Christian love and kindness 
our men had shown' them in their night of dis- 
tress, they were friendly and social ; so the occa- 
sion was as pleasant and as much one of rejoicing 
as could be under the circumstances, and we rest 
now in the protection of guns, better than noth- 
ing, yet insufficient for defence against a severe 
attack. 


228 


FAITH WHITENS FETTER BOOK. 


Mr. Winslow read the ninetieth and ninety- 
first Psalms that night at family worship, and 
every precious promise seemed to be God’s 
spoken word addressed to us specially. • 

“ With long life will I satisfy him,” repeated 
uncle Samuel in a choked voice as the prayer 
was ended ; and then he broke forth in a strain 
of thanksgiving, supplication, and confession, that 
awed us all ; but the great burden of his mighty 
cry unto the Lord was that he might be satisfied 
with long life, and once more upon the earth be- 
hold the faces of his wife and child. It was like 
good old Hezekiah, smitten with disease, prophe- 
sied to be unto death, turning his face to the 
wall, and in bitterness of spirit beseeching God 
to spare his life a little longer, and weeping sore 
before the Lord in prevailing prayer. 

Will not his prayers and ours be answered, and 
the shadow move backward on his life’s dial- 
plate. 


Swallow's Nest, Saturday, March 3. 

Euroclydon, the tempestuous wind that has 
raged so long is stilled, and the south wind blew 
softly, and out of the misty morning ushered in 
the spring most sweetly, with the birds in the 
229 


FAITH WHITE’S FETTER BOOK. 


woods singing a grand chorus of rejoicing over 
winter gone; — dreary winter, the robber, that 
has taken so many of our friends and lai^ them 
• in earth’s cold, unpitying bosom ; nor can the 
spring release them in new beauty, as by some 
subtle charms she will evoke the flowers now 
stirring and striving to climb up to the light, and 
has called forth the grass already taking bright 
tints of green on the sunny hillside, sloping to 
the south. 

In the afternoon it thundered in strong, heavy 
claps, that made one think of Mary as she used 
to sit in delight “ listening,” as she said, “ to 
God’s chariot-wheels rolling through the sky,” 
— sharing herself His triumphant march now. 
Then the rain comes thick and fast, and the 
drifts of snow wore thinner and thinner, and 
swept themselves away ; the swollen Town Brook 
rattled and roared — almost a river now as it 
sweeps along to the ocean. Then came night, 
and though the storm has sobbed itself away to 
an occasional low moan, it still rains heavily, 
dripping here and there through the thatching 
into many an open house, and beating in at 
many a crevice, — out of which we have been no 
more able to sliut and bar death, who cares not 
230 


FAITH WHITE* S EETTEE BOOK. 

for bolts, and observes no order in his coming 
and going. 

Mrs. Mulbins heard neither these bird-songs 
to-day, nor the rolling of the thunder, but in- 
stead “ As it were the voice of a great multitude, 
and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice 
of mighty thunderings, saying Allelulia : for the 
Lord God reigneth.” 

And though life still lingers as if loath to leave a 
dwelling he called his own so long, yet death is 
surely binding the strong men, and despoiling their 
house, and two in Mr. Tilly’s family, and two 
more in Mr. Tinker’s are past hearing all sounds 
of earth. Soon Elizabeth Tilly will be orphaned, 
as are so many others, — left all alone it may be, 
for her uncle the other Mr. Tilly, and his wife are 
also very ill. 

It is a great grief to uncle Samuel that he is 
not able to attend the sick, and though utterly 
prostrate in mind and body, when he heard that 
Mr. Turner and his two sons, still on board ship, 
were very sick, it was only at mother’s earnest 
persuasion that he was prevented from trying to 
go to them ; but finally he sent some medicine 
that he hopes will be of benefit. 


231 


FAITH WHITENS EFTTFB BOOK. 


Swalloio^s Nest, Saturday, March. 17. 

Two weeks have passed and I have not written 
a word. Meanwhile the spring has been stealing 
quickly on us, as if trying to take winter by strat- 
agem and gentleness ; but unappeased, and not 
to be outwitted, he is retiring with all a con- 
queror’s triumph, leading in his train many de- 
spoiled victims. 

Both of the Mr. Tillys and their wives are 
dead, Mr. Tinker and his wife and son, Mr. 
Turner and his two boys, with a man-servant and 
maid-servant in Governor Carver’s family, while 
three men’ still lie in the Eendezvous whom death 
seems to have sealed to himself. But the plague 
appears to be stayed, as the rest are generally 
recovering, and there are no new cases. 

After all these had been buried, still fearful of 
the vigilance of the prowling savages, they care- 
fully smoothed and prepared the ground, and in 
it have sown grain, so that over the bodies of our 
dead the green barley shall wave, and later, in 
the harvest-time, sigh and rustle with every 
breeze. 

A strange event happened yesterday. As our 
men were holding another town meeting, a tall, 
stalwart savage came along, alone, and armed 
232 


jrAiTja wb:ite>s jletter book. 


only with a bow and two arrows, he stalked 
boldly into their very midst, his long, black hair 
hanging down his back, and entirely unclothed 
except a strip of fringed leathe^ about his waist. 
So hideous was he to our unaccustomed eyes, that 
we all felt like doing as Mr. Allerton’s and Mr. 
Hopkin’s children did, scream in terror, and run to 
hide out of sight ; but undismayed at the fear he 
caused, he went boldly on toward the Rendez- 
vous, and would doubtless have gone in had they 
not stopped him. 

“ Welcome, Englishmen, welcome ! ” he re- 
peated in broken English, saluting all who ap- 
proached. 

On questioning him they found he was a Saga- 
more, or Chief of a tribe five days journey from 
here by land, and he had learned to talk a little 
English from the men on the numerous fishing 
vessels, that have often visited this coast. He 
told us that the Indian name of the placb we 
inhabit is Patuxet, and four years ago all the In- 
dians of the tribe living here died, of a terrible 
plague, neither man, woman, nor child remain- 
ing. 

Next to us are the Massasoits, sixty warriors 
strong, who attacked our men when exploring 
233 


FAITS WHITE >S LETTER BOOK. 


round Cape Cod Harbor. It seems that this 
latter tribe are very much at enmity with the 
English, because a few years ago a trader named 
Hunt, kidnappe(^ twenty men from the tribe that 
are now exterminated, and seven from their 
tribe, and carrying them to Spain in his fishing 
vessel, sold them at twenty pounds apiece ; and 
for this atrocious deed they are determined to 
dispute possession of this coast with all the Eng- 
lish. 

Poor creatures ! fearing us more than we them, 
having, as Samoset says, a great horror of our 
guns, and no God in whom to trust, with what 
agony of terror must they see us settle ,on their 
shores ! God grant that we may be the means 
of teaching them of Himself and His truth, and 
that they may welcome it in their hearts, as 
Samoset, spite of the injuries his race have re- 
ceived from ours, bade us “Welcome — wel- 
come ! ’’ 

As night came on and our Indian friend 
showed no inclination to depart, but seemed 
rather to enjoy the evident curiosity and ad- 
miring fear with which he was regarded, the men 
were not a little puzzled to know what to do with 
fiim, but finally concluded to take him on ship 
231 


FAITS WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


board, wliicli appeared to be agreeable to his 
wishes ; but the tide was out, and the wind high, 
so that they could not get the shallop to the ship, 
therefore they lodged him in an empty house, 
and watched him all night long, — an unneces- 
sary precaution perhaps, but they did not know 
what treachery might be concealed under that 
seeming hearty gladness to see us. However, he 
went away this morning, highly delighted with 
the knife, bracelet, and ring given him, pro- 
mising to come back soon with the Massasoits, 
who would bring beaver skins to trade with us. 

And thus we are assured that God designs this 
as our home with no one to contest our claim ; — 
a place that He has thickly strewn with graves to 
make it tenable for us, and is now filling with 
graves to teach us that our abiding here at best 
is but a fleeting, and in Him alone is our true, 
eternal, only dwelling place. 

Swallow's Nest, Tuesday, March 20. 

This is the second of two warm days full of 
sunshine, so that we have been digging in our 
gardens, and sowing seeds. And other furrows 
have been upturned, other visitors have been 
among us besides the fierce looking savages that 
* 235 


FAITS WHITENS ZETTEB, BOOK, 


have again been here. Onr sowing was of the 
same grain, valuable beyond all price, that, going 
forth weeping, we have cast into earth so many 
times, and our visitants^ Disease, who heralded 
the spoiler, that Christ promises as shall yet be 
despoiled. 

Four more men have been laid on the hill of 
burial, among them Mr. Degory Priest, a brother- 
in-law of Mr. Allerton’s, and an intimate friend 
of uncle Samuel’s, who came to feel this as a 
new call on him, and he has been adding to his 
many messages of love for his wife left in Hol- 
land, as was also Mrs. Priest. 

Mrs. Winslow and her geranium are alike 
drooping, both touched by an untimely frost. 
She does not grieve as uncle Samuel does, and 
talks each day in her gentle, earnest manner of 
the bliss of dying, and says that her earth-life has 
been long enough ; — just in the same tone of 
joyful expectancy that she would speak of, and 
make arrangements for, a tour of travel to some 
fair land on which she had long desired to look, 
softened with a little of regret that those she 
would like to have accompany her, were yet to 
tarry behind a little longer. 

Mr. Winslow watches over her in an agony of 
2:6 


FAITH WHITE’S TETTER BOOK. 


calm Christian sorrow, — that kind of fortitude 
with which he would bear tli^ amputation of a 
limb — and does what he can, as we all do, to 
gather the stones out of her pathway as she 
walks with bruised, but unwavering feet through 
the valley of the shadow of death, as it seems to 
us, but to her, mountain tops of peace, and fields 
of light where the Good Shepherd walks and 
dwells. 

Her husband often mourns that in these last 
hours he is unable to obtain scarcely any of the 
luxuries, or even comforts, she was accustomed 
to in her home, that she left so joyfully for 
Christ’s sake, and for the loss of which she has 
never been heard to murmur. Having no appe- 
tite for our coarse, unwholesome fare, and con- 
fined as she is to this one huddled-up room, al- 
ways bearing about with her in memory the 
dying of the Lord Jesus, and His life of poverty, 
she puts all regrets and complainings far from 
her, and smiling says, “ The spaciousness of 
the many mansions won for me by Christ, who 
had not where to lay His head, will more than 
compensate for the narrowness here. I have 
better than the vinegar and gall that were press- 


237 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK, 


ed to the lips of my dying Redeemer, and the 
servant may not be above his Lord.” 

So it seems that a visible angel-presence is 
with us, just for a little while, to show us how 
pure, sweet, and fragrant the love of Christ can 
make humanity, when crushed and sanctified by 
suffering for the truth’s sake. 

Samoset came again on Sabbath with four 
other Indians, bringing the stolen tools with 
them. They were all tall, straight men, each 
with a deer-skin thrown over his shoulders, ex- 
cept one who wore a wild-cat’s skin, and seemed 
to be a chief among them ; they also wore long 
stockings, and over the body a leather dress. 
They had little or no beard, their hair was cut 
short in front and stood erect, and was trimmed 
with feathers, though one had the superior adorn- 
ment of a fox-tail ; in the back it hung far down 
their shoulders. 

In complexion they are like gipseys, but their 
faces were painted in broad, black stripes, from 
the forehead to the chin, and in various ways, 
that made them look grotesquely hideous, so that 
when they sung and danced after their rude fash- 
ion — although indicating friendliness, the chil- 
dren fled and hid in the utmost dismay. Francis 
238 


FAITH WHITE* S IE T TER BOOK. 


Billington was especially terrified, and told Paul 
and Samuel lie should never dare take them to 
Billington Sea, for the very sight of the Indians 
scared him to death ! 

They brought a few beaver-skins and dried 
fish to trade with us, but through Somerset Gov- 
ernor Carver explained to them that this was a 
holy day, set apart for worshipping our God, and 
therefore he could not trade with them, but they 
should come again soon and bring more skins. ; 
and having given them something to eat he sent 
them away, armed men accompanying them to 
the place where their bows and arrows had been 
left. 

But Somoset complained of being sick, and he 
still lingers among us, seeming to be very happy 
in association with his English friends, and we 
feel that in him God has sent us a friend whose 
good will it is wise in us to conciliate and keep. 

239 


CHAPTER XYin. 


Swallow's Nest, Friday, March 23. 
C^^HEY sent Samoset away on Wednesday, 
(^i I j after giving him a shirt, a hat, a pair of 
stocking and shoes, with which additions 
to his scant wardrobe he was highly delighted, 
and in return for which he was to ascertain why 
the Indians did not come with the beaver skins 
as they had promised. 

That same day they held their third meeting to 
confirm the military orders that before had been 
talked of and, as at each previous meeting, again 
were they interrupted by the appearance of sav- 
ages, two of whom stood on a hill and made a 
show of daring our men. Captain Standish and 
another man took their muskets, and accom- 
panied by the ship’s mates went towards them ; 
the Indians continued to rub and whet their 
arrows and strings very defiantly, but ran away 
as our men drew imar. 


2-10 


FAITS WMITE^S JLETIER BOOK. 


On yesterday, a fair, warm day, they met again 
on public business, when Samoset made his re- 
appearance with another Indian named Squanto, 
who it seems survived all his tribe, being one of 
the twenty captured by the wicked trader. By 
some means he escaped from Spain to England, 
and there lived in Gornhill with a merchant 
named Slanie, who treated him kindly, and sent 
him back on a trading vessel to pacify the out- 
raged Indians; it was there he had learned to 
speak English, as he does quite well. They 
brought with them some beaver-skins, and dried 
herring, and said that the neighboring Sagamore, 
and his brother was not far distant with all his 
men. 

After an hour, Massasoit the Indian king, with 
his brother and sixty warriors, came on top of a 
hill near by. As we were unwilling that the 
Governor should go to them, and they were 
afraid to come to us, Squanto was sent to commu- 
nicate with them. He soon returned saying 
they wished a man should be sent with Squanto, 
and Mr. Winslow was thought suitable. We all 
trembled at the thought of his possible danger in 
going alone to these fierce savages, but Mrs. 
Winslow said she had no fear — she knew the 


241 


V4 TTTT WB:ITJE>S LETTER BOOK. 


Lord would protect him, and having kissed him 
good-bye, calmer than any of us, sat bolstered up 
in an easy-chair, and watched the proceedings 
from the door. 

Our men sent by him as gifts to Massasoit, a 
pair of knives, and a copper chain with a jewel 
in it ; to his brother a knife and ear-jewel ; also a 
quantity of biscuit and butter, all which they 
gladly accepted. 

Mr. Winslow made a speech to him in a stately 
manner, saying that King James, the great En- 
glish king across the seas, saluted him with love 
and peace, accepting him as an ally and friend, 
and that our Governor wished to have a confer- 
ence with him, and confirm peace. 

As Mr. Winslow said, “ He seemed very much 
pleased with my speech, and still more so with 
the biscuit and butter. And he was especially 
delighted with my suit of armor and sword, and 
signified that he would give me several chains 
of bones for them, hut I declined the offer. 

Mr. Winslow staid, while the king came to the 
town brook with about twenty men, their bows 
and arrows being left behind. Here Captain 
Standish, with his invincible company of six 

men, all clad in amior, met them, and after many 
242 


FAITH WHITENS EE ITEM BOOK. 


ceremonious salutations, taking a half a dozen of 
them as hostages for Mr. Winslow’s safety, he con- 
ducted the king and the rest to an empty house, 
where our men had spread a large green rug and 
several cushions. They were seated, and then 
came the Governor in his robes of state, with a 
drum and trumpet behind him, carrying himself 
with as much dignity as if he had been followed 
by thousands of armed men, marching in time to 
crashing strains of martial music. 

“ Ain’t that nice ? ” said Francis Billington, in 
his admiration forgetting his fear, and putting his 
whole body out of the door, where only his head 
with a wide open mouth had been visible. “ I 
tell you, boys, I am going to be a governor myself 
some day, and I’ll have two drums to go behind 
me all of the time — now see if I don’t ! ” 

“ More like you’ll go to the gallows with two 
drums behind you, after all the- good training 
I ’ve given you, if you don’t go straight and get 
me an armfnl of wood and a pail of water, so I 
can finish baking, and not be gazing at those red- 
skinned heathen that are just watching for a 
chance to take your scalp off ! ” retorted his irate 
mother, following him, rolling pin in hand, as he 
ran swiftly to the Kendezvous where the ceremo- 
243 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEJl BOOK. 


ny of salutation was going on, which consisted in 
Governor Carver’s kissing Massasoit’s hand and 
receiving one in return. Then they drank to- 
gether, and the Governor feasted him ; and after 
he and his followers had eaten freely, the follow- 
ing terms of peace were agreed upon. 

In the first place we were to live without 
injury to each other, and if any of his people 
should do violence to us, he should send the 
offender to the Governor for punishment ; they 
should restore any tools stolen from us, and we 
were to do the same by them in all respects. 

If we were attacked in war, they should aid 
us, and we would likewise assist him against his 
enemies : he should also send word to the neigh- 
boring tribes, his allies, and they should be in- 
cluded in the same conditions of peace. 

When they came to us they were to leave their 
bows and arrows behind, as our men would their 
muskets in going to them. If he should do all 
these things faithfully, the Governor assured him 
that the mighty King James, who had thousands 
upon thousands of armed men, would esteem him 
as his dear friend, — an announcement that 
seemed to gratify him exceedingly, though he 
trembled with fear all the time he- sat there, so 

244 


faith: whitf^s ifttfjr book. 


imposing an appearance did the Governor and 
his men make. 

Massasoit looked like a strong man in prime of 
life, with a grave face, and little inclined to talk. 
He was dressed much the same as the others, 
except that 4ie wore round his neck a long chain 
of beads made of bones, at the end of which, 
down his back, hung a bag of tobacco, some of 
which he frequently put in water, and offered to 
our men to drink. He also had around his neck 
a string, to which was attached a long knife. 
His face was painted red, and both his hair and 
face well oiled, so that, as Mr. Bradford graphi- 
cally said, “ He looked greasily ! ” 

His warriors were also painted in black, red, 
and yellow, with crosses and various figures. 
Some were clothed in skins, and some but par- 
tially so — and all were as terrible to me as was 
the sight of the Governor and his army to the 
poor king, or the sound of the trumpet, — at the 
first noise of which he was exceedingly awed, 
though some of his men did not scruple to try to 
blow it. 

After all the terms of peace had been settled, 
the Governor with great pomp escorted Massasoit 
to the brook, and having embraced each other, he 
245 


faitb: whitens eetter book. 


went his way. But while we were looking anx- 
iously for Mr. Winslow, word was brought that 
Quadequina, the king’s brother, wished also to 
visit us, and soon he came wifh a troop of sav- 
ages, and was conducted to the same place and 
fed. He seemed particularly afraid t)f our guns, 
so they laid them out of sight, and having staid 
awhile he went away, but so pleased were some 
of his men with ourselves or our food, that they 
wished to spend the night here, which the Gover- 
nor did not permit, but sent them to their own 
men, who, with their wives and children, had 
camped for the night not half a mile from us; 
and though it was deemed prudent to keep a vig- 
ilant watch all night, there was no appearance of 
danger, — to us a gratifying fact, but tending to 
destroy Mrs. Billington’s reputation as a true 
prophet in the eyes of her sons, for after giving 
them their regular nightly whipping, she had un- 
qualifiedly declared, — “ All of those outlandish 
savages with their long knives are coming back 
again before morning, and they’ll not leave a hair 
on either of your heads, — which I hope will 
teach you never to disobey your mother again ! ” 
Several of the Indians came over this morning, 
saying that the king would like to have some of 
246 


FAITH WHITF*S lETTEM BOOK, 


our men visit him, therefore Mr. Allerton and 
Captain Standish went, though not without some 
concern on our part as to the safety of doing so. 
But the king received them gladly, and gave 
them some ground-nuts and tobacco, the best he 
had to offer. When the savages went back, the 
Governor told them to return with the king’s 
kettle, which he filled with peas, and it proved to 
be a very acceptable offering. 

They say that in a week or two they will come ^ 
and set corn by us, and spend the summer near. 
So we are inclined to think their friendship is not 
a pretence, and they desire to be at peace with 
us hoping that we will be of assistance to them 
against the Narragansetts, their deadly enemies, 
— a powerful tribe living to the south-west, — as 
our guns are very formidable weapons to them. 

Samoset and Squanto spent the night with us, 
and this evening the latter came back from fish- 
ing for eels with a bountiful supply. They look 
very much like snakes but taste like fish. He 
caught them by treading on the soft mud where 
they were, “ and when they came out of the 
ground to see what was the matter overhead,” as 
Paul described it, “ he caught them in his 
hands.” 


247 


FAITS WHITE’S IE TIER BOOK. 


I cooked some for supper, and Mrs. Winslow 
ate of them with a relish that made Squanto say 
with delight, “ Me glad the sick pale-face eat 
them ! ’’ and made us sigh that we have so few 
delicacies with which to tempt her appetite. 

They also completed to-day the civil and mili- 
tary arrangements that so often have been inter- 
rupted by the savages, making several new laws 
and orders that seemed necessary, and chose our 
Governor for the coming year, — Master Carver 
as before. 

Thus, at peace within ourselves and the little 
world outside, with the shadow of death, except 
in two cases, lifted from over us, and the spring, 
with its many labors, especially that of planting 
the seed, upon us, we seem to be settling into 
what will be our regular mode of life, particular- 
ly when the Mayflower shall have departed, — as 
she probably will within two weeks, — and sev- 
ered the last link that connects us in this new 
home of our adoption to the old world-life 
behind, — dear to us still, yet grieving us not to 
know that we shall look on it no more. 


248 


FAITH WHITENS LETTEM BOOK, 


Swallow^ s Nest^ Saturday, March 24 . 

Ours was indeed an angel, and she has sud- 
denly found her wings and flown away. We did 
not think yesterday that she was so near the end 
of her toilsome journey, and when Mary Chilton 
and Paul, with cousin Samuel and myself went 
into the woods this afternoon to seek for wild 
flowers to send to Patience, and for Mrs. Wins- 
low, we little thought we were gathering them to 
deck her for the grave. 

Here and there, in sheltered, sunny places, 
their roseate cheeks sometimes lying almost upon 
a snow-bank, we found pale, little flowers, white, 
streaked with red, and named them Mayflowers, 
in honor of our departing ship, — though uncle 
Samuel says the botanical name is Epigaea, 
These we gathered with upspringing green leaves, 
and delicate ferns and mosses, and carried them 
home. 

Mrs. Winslow took our few poor little blossoms, 
and holding them in her thin, white hand, was 
inhaling the delicious odor when the summons 
came. Talking cheerfully of her eternal spring 
so close at hand, compared with whose flowers 
these that looked so lovely were but as coarsest 
weeds, she was attacked with violent hemorrhage 
• 249 


FAITH WHITE’S ZETTEM BOOH, 


of the lungs. In vain uncle Sameel applied all 
the known remedies ; rapidly the crimson life-tide 
ebbed away, and when the sun had set, Elizabeth 
Winslow was no more — or rather is evermore. 

Like her own unselfish self was the last loving 
act of her beautiful life. When father was dying 
he again said to mother what he had often told 
her before, that he did not wish her always to 
wear a widow’s weeds, — that she was still too 
young to bury her loving heart in his grave, — 
and that it was his desire that if she should be 
sought in marriage by a man that she could love, 
she would not for his sake and the faithful love 
she bore him, say nay, but as a wife again be 
happy in blessing another man as she had him, — 
‘‘ doing him good and not evil all the days of his 
life.” 

And Mrs. Winslow in her cheerful talk about 
dying, — as though it was to her what it truly is 
to every Christian — going home, — again and 
again said to mother that into her hands she 
committed Mr. Winslow’s future earthly happi- 
ness ; that to her best friend she gave what was 
dearest to her on earth, knowing that she would 
not refuse the sacred trust. 

Finally, when by her request it was settled that 

2o0 


fj.it a waiTE’S eettem book. 


the wedding should take place on her hirth-day, 
Mcay twelfth, with chilling hands she joined theirs 
and blessed them, telling them to comfort each 
the other, and rejoice in the other, knowing that 
the two they had made so happy on earth, had 
entered into the perfect happiness of the land 
Beulah, where they neither marry nor are given 
in marriage, except to the Heavenly Bridegroom 
who claims them as His own. 

Dear Mrs. Winslow ! What a friend we have 
lost in her we scarcely know now, but shall real- 
ize as our days and weeks crawl on without her 
patient, beaming face to lighten our darker 
moments, and her quick love to God to kindle 
our slower motions. Her grave, that need not be 
levelled since we are at peace with the Indians 
and fear them no more, shall be planted with 
flowers pure and sweet — yet not sweeter nor 
purer than the fair body resting beneath, and not 
comparable with the white soul that animated it. 

“ When she was dying,’’ said uncle Samuel a 
little while ago, “ and I saw how it was well with 
the departing Christian, I cried out ‘ Let me die 
the death of the righteous, and let my last end 
be like his.’ And straightway — as soon as I was 
willing to die if it was God’s will, — I heard a 
251 


FAITia WHITENS EETTEJt BOOK. 


reply from far off — ‘Thou shaft not die but live;’ 
and I know now what has been so long mysteri- 
ous to me, — that I, loving God, and yearning 
earnestly for Him and heaven, should of late be 
in so great doubt as to my acceptance with Him, 
and find no glimpse of His dear face, though I 
sought it carefully and prayerfully with tears, 
crying ‘ My God, my God, why hast Thou for- 
saken me ? ’ and feeling only a horror of death 
judgment and eternity ; now I perceive that it 
was not mental darkness, spiritual blindness and 
deadness, but due to nervous prostration — to my 
whole system shattered in every part by care and 
fatigue.” 

“ God bless you children ! ” he said as Paul, 
Samuel, and myself kissed him in voiceless glad- 
ness that his darkness was past, and the true 
light now shining in his heart, “ if God so will 
it, I can leave you all, — my lonely sister, my 
nephew, even darling Bridget and the boy, and 
go to Him gladly and without doubt, — yet I feel 
that the Heavenly Healer has struck at the root 
of my disease and I shall recover.” 

So to-night with Mr. Winslow bowed over his 
dead, and cousin Samuel still weeping in joy over 
his uncle, raised, as it were, to life again, I write, 
252 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK, 


and am reminded by the tall clock in the corner, 
ticking away our lives moment by moment, that 
I must commit this week just ended, to the forgiv- 
ing hands of Him who writes the record of all 
our weeks and years. 


253 


CHAPTER XIX. 


% 



Swallow's Nest, Thursday, March 29. 

Y C ARiAD : — It is mj birthday — and 
the days of my years are sixteen. 
One year agone I began this letter- 
book, brimming with hope and full of energetic 
life that was bounded only by doing and enjoying; 
to-day, settled in a quiet hope of good things to 
be, — in the better land — with a heart that has 
learned that God’s strength is perfected in our 
weakness, and His will often better done by en- 
during rather than doing, I commence another 
year. 

The twelve months just closed seems a life- 
time to me, — as long as all the fifteen that went 
before, — and as I recall them, going backward 
day by day, I am confused at the changes God 
has wrought in and around me, and doubt my 
own identity. 


FAITH WHITE’S TETTER ROOK, 


But tins has not been wholly a sad, dark year, 
for I find days here and there — weeks now and 
then — like oases in a desert land. Within this 
time God sent you to me, my Cariad, and that 
for one day I had you is enough to make a whole 
year bright. And He sent my little brotlier 
Peregrine, and my mother’s precious letter ; and 
midst all its so-called losses, I have really lost 
nothing, for I have you all still ; — only my eyes 
are not able to bear the added radiance of your 
glorified faces ; and I know you are yet mine, nor 
would I go back to that inexperienced beginning, 
though the sting of this dear-bought knowledge 
clings to my flesh, and I sometimes mourn bitter- 
ly that you all so far out-ran me and left me toil- 
ing on behind. 

There was no father to greet me this morning 
with kisses and good-wishes, — no Mary and 
David to find an. excuse for doubling their usual 
caresses. Nevertheless, what once would have 
seemed dreary beyond endurance, is now easy to 
be borne, and not wholly without happiness in 
itself, inasmuch as I feel that I have grown to 
the True Yine, by this stern but kindly pruning 
of the Heavenly Gardener, lopping the offshoots 
that were stretching away from tlio parent-stoin, 
255 


faith: white* s let tee book. 


and pinching the tendrils twining round other 
forbidden things. 

So, instead of spending the day in vain griev- 
ing over the inevitable sorrows of life, that are 
sent to fit us for life eternal, I have written a 
long letter to that dear Patience, and put into it 
as much of cheerfulness as I could extract from 
the circumstances in which God has placed us — 
for I could not bear to throw the full shadow of 
our griefs and cares on her dear heart. 

Another year ! I dare not look forward to it 
as a whole. Its weight and burden stagger me — 
my flesh refuses — my soul draws back ! Help 
me. Thou eternal Now, to take each moment 
reverently as coming from Thee, to enjoy it in 
Thee, to spend it for Thee and Thy glory. 

My Dear, Dear Patience : — 

I have sat down many times to write that 
“ good, long letter,” you used to talk of getting 
from me when the Mayflower went back, telling 
you almost incredible stories of my ocean-ride, 
and tales of Indians wild and barbarous ; descrip- 
tions of immense forests, high mountains kissing 
the sky, mighty lakes and wide rivers hurrying 
^ onward ; of brigiit-hued birds and gorgeous but- 
266 


FJLITS WSITE^S LETTER BOOK, 

terflies ; stately deer stalking through the forests, 
fierce, wild animals, and many kindred things. 

But the very thought of those calm, sweet 
days, when we sat and rocked in the little boats 
on the sleepy canals, trailing our hands in the 
water and letting it purl between our fingers, 
while fancying these bright pictures in the future, 
brought with it too much of grief to go on, for it 
seemed to me that just so were we floating on the 
river of time, and joying to let the calm hours 
slip idly through oui* fingers, till before I knew 
it I was separated from you, — and the peaceful 
waters had become a turbid river filled with 
rocks, on which my frail bark was dashing and 
beating. 

Yet God was very good to let us then see only 
the sunward side ; and now, having measured a 
little of the ruggedness of life’s ways, — which 
Christ makes smooth, — and darkness — that is 
but a veil to hide His unendurable glory, — I 
believe that I can look, with a higher, better 
trust in the eternal promise, beyond the green 
avenues, and past the still water-courses, — even 
through the valley of the shadow, to the bright- 
ness beyond — the light that lighteneth the 
world. 


257 


FAITS WHITENS ZETTEB BOOK, 


But if God’s strong hand had fallen on any of 
your dearest ones, — as at one time we feared it 
might, — I don’t think I could have found words 
out of my own heart’s grievings and sympathies 
in which to write you, — for that struggle is be- 
tween one’s own soul and God — not even a 
friend intermeddleth therewith — and He only 
can be the comforter. 

Your father, mother, and brothers will tell you 
in full all that has occurred to us, — Wrestling 
says he has been keeping* a diary for you and 
Fear, — and you will read with great interest Mr. 
Brtidford’s journal that he sends to England and 
Holland for publication : therefore I am going to 
write in my familiar rambling way — just as I 
used to talk — and tell you of things they will be 
least apt to mention. 

Dear Patience, do not for a moment suppose 
from what I have said about our trials and suffer- 
ings, that I have ever been sorry I came. When 
father lay dying — for my good father is among 
the many dead ! — I was so glad I had overcome 
my selfish dream of ease and desires to stay with 
you in Holland. And though I have no earthly 
father, one is my father, even God, — dearer 
than ever to me because He has taken mine to 
258 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEM BOOK. 


His parental bosom — can you understand ho^ 
that is ? 

On his death-bed father gave me a letter from 
my own glorified mother. No words can tell you 
the comfort it was then and is to me. It seems 
as if a bridge had been made to span the abyss 
between us, — as if a ladder had been let down, 
extending from earth to heaven, on which angels 
are continually coming and going. You know 
how you will prize your mother’s letter, written 
after less than a year’s absence, from her rude 
log-cabin, your future home. Think what it 
would be to you if she had long since gone to 

that house not made with hands,” — your 
home too, — and your father with dying hands 
and a stilling heart had given it to you ! 

But as a sweet compensation for these losses 
by death, God sent us Peregrine — my darling 
baby brother, just four months old to-day, — 
lying now with wide-open blue eyes in aunt 
Fuller’s cradle which I jog with my feet as I 
write, — winning in his baby ways as I think 
child never was before. 

Jasper died, too. Young — just eighteen — 
ambitious, and good, — how truly good we did 


259 


FAITS WHITENS ZETTEB BOOK. 


not know till the testing-time came that tried all 
of us, — he too, was among the called. 

You know how we used to talk about dying — 
how sad we thought it to pillow a young head on 
the sod. But I don’t think it sad now, — only 
sweet and pleasant, if such be God’s will — to 
lay down these aching heads and throbbing 
hearts, and still them on Jesus’ bosom. To be 
old, and trembling with age, lean on a staff, — to 
have the grasshopper become a burden and desire 
fail, — that seems far sadder than to have the 
chafing pulses of mad youth stilled forever ! 

But for Jaspar to die ! I had never thought 
so much of life could have within it the seeds of 
death, — and he was so suddenly summoned — 
to us at least, but he was always ready. And 
out of the four Bichard is left alone, but so cared 
for by your free-hearted father and mother, who 
claim all the orphans here as their own children, 
that God has verified their dying father’s trust, 
when he committed his four children to the care 
of our church and its great Head, saying “ The 
Lord will provide friends, for them — He will 
never let them want.” And so soon, in Him, 
have the necessities of three been stilled and 
filled. 


260 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


You will feel so sorry for Mary Chilton, Pris- 
cilla Mulbins, Elizabeth Tilly, and cousin Samu- 
el — all of whom mourn the loss of both parents. 
How light my grief compared with theirs ! 

Aunt Bridget must have had a lonely, anxious 
winter, but, thank God ! she is not written a 
widow as Mrs. Priest is. Give her many kin- 
dred remembrances, and tell her that her name 
is very often on our lips, and we look forward to 
meeting her, — and all of you left behind — as 
our brightest anticipation. Uncle Samuel — go- 
ing night and day, giving relief to the sick, and 
consolation to the dying, till he himself lay a 
long while at death’s door, — has been the means 
of saving many lives to us we believe. A phy- 
sician’s. life seems so useful, that I told Paul the 
other day I would rather he would study medi- 
cine, unless the Lord should call him to the min- 
istry. 

Paul is a better brother than ever, dear Pa- 
tience, if you know how that can be. He has 
become very manly since father died, and grown 
so much in statue since we came from Holland, 
that I am already beginning to depend on him. 
He often speaks of you, and, mindful of your in- 
terest in his archery, says he would like to liave 
261 


F^LITS WHITENS EETTEB BOOK. 


you see him shoot at a mark now with his gun — 
one that Jasper gave him — and never miss. He 
wanted that I should write to you that he had 
already killed several fowls, and hit one deer, — 
but the deer ran away till Wrestling’s shot finish- 
ed him. 

Paul used to sigh particularly for you on board 
ship, and say “ I knew if Patience were here she 
would not always be crooning over that dull 
Latin, but come on deck and climb the ropes ! ” 
and I presume you would if you had dared, for I 
have not forgotten some of your apple-tree freaks 
in your father’s garden ! 

Speaking of the apple-trees makes me think of 
the seeds you gave me from your own choice 
tree. I planted them a few days ago, — or 
rather, I put them in Peregrine’s chubby hand, 
and he scattered them ; then I took his tiny 
finger and pressed each one into the ground, and 
he carolled and trilled like a bird all the while, 
as if he knew he were doing a good deed. I 
thought if they came up and grew as fast as he 
grows, it'would be so nice to show him in future 
years the trees from the seeds his pink finger-tips 
had buried in the sod when he was a wee baby. 

Mother’s rose-bush has grown nicely, and been 
2G2 


FAITH WHITE’S lETTER BOOK. 


blooming ever since we came to our rude bouse, 
and it still has buds on it. Our pansies are in 
blossom too, but I am afraid the frost has killed 
Mrs. Winslow’s geranium ; she gave it to me and 
I value it so, so much — more than all the rest 
of the plants — and still hope it will come up 
from the roots. 

Old Tabby — I can almost hear David saying 

— Come, Tabby, pussey, get mikky ! ” has 
thriven better than any other passenger on board 
the ship. She soon forgot the loss of the white 
kitten, whose after career I want you to tell me, 

— and rats and mice were plenty on board ; 
moreover I don’t think she ever had a twinge of 
sea sicknQss — which is a very sore illness. Pa- 
tience, I can assure you. Fat and sleek she now 
lies purring contentedly at the foot of Peregrine’s 
cradle, — for he’s asleep now, and his dimpled 
fingers that found rare delight in the warmth of 
her fur, and pleasure in grasping her convenient 
tail, are relaxed, so that she has crawled away to 
sleep and dream also. 

The goats are also doing nicely. We left them 
on board ship till a few weeks since, and Dicky, 
from long confinement in close quarters, has for- 
gotten liis mischievous propensities that were 
26 J 


FAITH WHITENS TETTER BOOK. 


sometimes so annoying — though doubtless you 
would think him too subdued. Daisy and Dill — 
the kids we spent so much time in hunting good 
enough names for — are grown to a sadder and 
wiser maturity than when we used to play with 
them, putting wreaths of roses and flowers round 
their necks. Wrestling says your poor Billy was 
nearly dead at one time, — indeed all the goats 
but six died during the rough storms of mid- 
ocean, and it was so piteous, adding not a little 
to the horror of those dreadful days and weeks, 
to hear their moans and bleats. 

Your little dog — grown now beyond possibili- 
ty of recognition — frisks around as merrily here 
in the forests as if the change made no. difference 
to him, and still persists in teasing Tabby, all our 
attempts to settle their time-honored family-feuds 
having been of no avail. And among the rest of 
my domestic intelligence I must not omit the 
hens and chickens, in whose grown up welfare I 
know you are interested, for we petted many of 
them in their callow state for canary birds, ex- 
changing them for younger ones as the soft 
yellow down gave place to unmistakeable chicken 
feathers. They have given us now and then some 
eggs, and since we came on shore and the warm 
2C4 


FAITH WHITF^S IFTTEF BOOK. 


weather set in, they limp cheerfully around on 
frozen toes, and scratcli and cackle, and crow as 
gaily and unceasingly, as though there were no 
foxes prowling all around and snapping up every 
one that strays too far from the houses — which 
inglorious fate befel our poor White-Top ! 

We have taken two or three grand rambles 
under Wrestling’s protection, with Paul and his 
gun as additional safeguards, and I send you the 
few flowers and leaves here enclosed as proof of 
a few of the floral beauties of our new home. It 
is too early for a great variety, but by the time 
you receive them you can imagine us wandering 
off, following the laughing Town Brook to its 
source in Billington Sea, — past its beautiful, 
dashing waterfalls, and the level places where it 
slips idly along the smooth white pebbles, feeding 
the thankful roots of miglity forest trees, winding 
between high hills that strive to shut in the bab- 
bling brook so that it may not be swallowed up 
by the greedy sea. 

As to the birds, — your ears have never been 
charmed by a more varied melody than they give 
us from the first dawn of light till dark — none 
that I have yet seen brilliant in plumage except 
the red-breasted wood pecker, who taps away 
265 


faith: WHITE’S IE T TEE BOOK. 


diligently at the trunks of the trees, — but their 
sweetness of song makes up for want of color. 

We have already been planting corn; — Isay 
we because all that was able, young and old, 
went into the fields to do what they could, — and 
my part was to drop a few of the bright-colored 
kernels in the ground a few feet apart : two or 
three little ale-wives — a kind of fish that the 
Indians tell us will soon swim up the town brook 
in countless numbers — having previously been 
put into each hill to enrich the ground ; the men 
covered it and there we leave it to mother-earth 
to develop “ first the blade, then the ear, then 
the full corn in the ear.’^ 

I was to tell you how I spent my birthday — 
but you see I have been taking largely of its 
hours to write to your dear self. I missed fath- 
er’s and grandfather’s birthday greeting, — but 
your father and uncle Samuel blessed me instead, 
and your good brother Wrestling — who calls me 
his little sister — brought me a birthday present, 
that reminded me with an humbling pang of sor- 
row of the Testament your father sent me a year 
ago. 

This book is a selection of detached expres- 
sions of praise, confession and meditation from 
266 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER ROOK. 


St. Augustine, and as Wrestling selected them 
himself, and they were printed on your father’s 
press, they are probably not new to you. Being 
in Latin I have read but little, but one or two 
passages that he marked I am going to translate 
for you, for out of the bosom of this death I have 
learned their deep meaning. 

‘‘ The man is happy that loveth Thee, and 
loveth his dear ones in Thee, and his enemy be- 
cause of Thee. For He only loses not one that 
is beloved by Him, by whom all are loved in God 
that cannot be lost.” 

“ If the mortal part please thee, thank God 
and love thy Maker more, that thou displease not 
God in tliat which please thee. If the immortal 
soul delight thee, love it in God : because away 
from Him they perish, but in Him are fixed for- 
ever : otherwise they would die and pass away. 
Love then thy beloved in Him : lead unto Him 
with thyself what souls thou art able, and unto 
them say — Let us love Him — Let us love 
Him.” 

I wish you could see these Indians. They are 
really more horrible than I had dreamed human 
beings could be, even when painted and dis- 
figured to the utmost. As yet none but the men 
267 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


and boys have visited ns, but Mr. Allerton, who 
went the other day to the woods where the 
squaws and children were, — they call the babies 
pappooses — has been amusing his lonely, moth- 
erless children by telling them how the Indian 
mothers make a kind of cradle of bark in which 
they tie the baby snugly, just leaving the dark 
little face peering out, and in travelling or work- 
ing they bind the cradle on their backs, — and 
Mr. Allerton has several times fixed up Mary in 
real pappoose style to show how it is done. And 
sometimes, with a rope made from the twisted 
inner bark of trees, or a green withe, they fasten 
the cradle securely to the limb of a tree, and the 
wind swaying the branches rocks them to sleep. 

Just think of treating our darling Peregrine 
that way ! And yet copper-colored children are 
as dear to the heavenly Father, and their souls 
as white, as our faired-faced darlings, and May 
Chilton and I are much interested in their 
behalf, though we have yet had no opportunity to 
do anything for them. 

I promised to tell you of my progress in Latin. 
My dear Patience, I can scarcely bear to think of 
it, so pleasant were the few lessons we had to- 
gether — lessons ending so long ago, with so 
268 


FAITH WHITENS FETTER BOOK. 

many sad changes intervening, I scarcely know 
when was our last, or how far we read, but am 
sure we never finished the Second Book of the 
jEiieid. Wrestling has kindly offered to hear 
me read Latin this summer — but not Virgil’s 
-^neid, — I can never read that any more. 

As St. Paul said to his beloved Galatian 
church, as evidence of his attachment to them — 
“You see how large a letter I have written unto 
you with my own hand,” and this to you has ex- 
tended indefinitely on, and I have still so much 
more to say. But you will have a surfeit of let- 
ters, if such a thing is possible, and therefore you 
may give my love to your dear sister Fear, uncle 
Robinson’s family, and all the dear ones left in 
in Holland, reading Philippians 1 : 3, as an indi- 
cation of the love flowing to you ever from 
Your loving friend, 

Faith. 

Plymouth^ N. E., March 29, 1621. 


269 


CHAPTER XX. 


Swallow^ s Nest, Thursday, April 5. 
morning the Mayflower sailed home- 
j ward. We all went down to see her ofT, 
and some of the sailors shed more tears 
than we ; nevertheless, though glad she was going 
to bear tidings of our fate to anxious loved ones, 
it seemed for a little while as if we were at last 
cut loose from the whole world, — that we had 
literally left all, and been left by all, for Jesus. 

The men came down from firing a parting 
salute on Fort Hill, and the shallop returned to 
the shore with other men, and with straining, 
tear-dimmed eyes we watched the departing May- 
flower as she swiftly glided on and slowly settled 
out of sight ; when finally she was but a mere 
speck on the horizon. Elder Brewster knelt on 
the rock where we had first landed, and out of 
the one hundred and four passengers shipped on 
270 


FAITS WBIITE’S FETTER BOOK. 


her, fifty- two — just one half that had slipped the 
leash of death — gathered around and joined him 
in prayer, praising God for the mercies ’He had 
vouchsafed us in our wanderings, and especially, 
that, as He had put it into our hearts for the sake 
of His glory, and to spread the everlasting gos- 
pel among the heathen, to come hitherward. He 
had led us to so goodly a place to dwell in ; 
thanking Him for the richness of grace that had 
kept each one of us from an overweening, sinful 
longing to go back to our ease in Zion ; and be- 
seeching Him as Abba, Father, that whatever He 
might see best for us, or deny us, in future years. 
He would give us love to Jesus and trust in Him, 
and deny us not the presence of the Comforter to 
teach us all things. 

So we were refreshed by this leading to the 
Higher Rock, and went homeward talking cheer- 
fully. On the way as I sat for a while under a 
tree with Peregrine in my arms, thinking to 
what dear delights of the home that once was, 
the Mayflower had gone back, bearing messages 
of love, and tidings of great sorrow, a little gust 
of wind swayed the leafless branches over my 
head, and an empty bird’s nest fell at my feet. 
All the comfort of Mr. Brewster’s prayer faded 
271 


FAITH WHITE’S TETTER ROOK. 


from my mind : all the sweet thoughts of Em- 
manuel, God with us, vanished, and I saw only 
my little, sunshiny Bird’s Nest in Leyden — mine 
no more ; I was again a singing-chatterer there, 
and other warblers made merry music chiming 
with my own. The light-hearted, care free gay- 
ety of those days, — the chill loneliness and sad- 
ness of these, were too great a contrast, and the 
fountain of my tears. — bitter Marah of the 
desert so often opened — was smitten again, and 
the hot flood leaped forth, dropping fast into the 
deserted bird’s nest, — empty like my heart. 

But Peregrine looked up and smiled, and 
cooed, and passed his hands over my face in his 
loving baby fashion, till I was comforted, and re- 
membered that the birds had grown and flown 
to tlie sunny south, where they were steeped in 
summer wealth and beauty ; * even as our bird- 
lings had gone from the dreary north-land of 
earth to the bowers where the Heavenly Dove 
has its abiding-place forever. So I put the bird’s 
nest back in the tree, pressing its loose, swayed 
sides together, half-hoping the former occupants 
would come back with summer, and again take 
up their abode there. 

This afternoon Governor Carver came in from 
272 


FAITH WHITE’S lETTEIt BOOK. 


the field very side, complaining much of liis 
head ; now he has fallen into a heavy stupor, the 
end of which we know not, but trust that he will 
soon be better, hoping against hope, for uncle 
Samuel, quite well now himself, — who came in 
a few moments since to get some other medicine, 
and has gone to .spend the night with him, — 
speaks despairingly of his case. 

It seems impossible that God will take this 
strong staff* and stay from us, for but twenty men 
are now left to guard us, and perform the labor 
necessary in planting the first settlement in the 
wilderness. It seems discouraging, and contrary 
to all human reasoning, that from so small a i)e- 
giiming any great result can ever come, but Mr. 
Winslow, in his accustomed, healthful trust in 
God, said to-day — “ Christ in His poverty and 
loneliness, with His twelve disciples, planted the 
ignominious cross on Calvary, and while the tri- 
umphant world mocked, and kings made merry 
and sent gifts of congratulation to each other, 
the stone cut out of the mountains without hands 
began to roll, and crush in pieces the brass, the 
iron, tlie silver, the clay and the gold; and a 
kingdom has been set up, of which we have the 


27a 


FAITH WHITE’S EETTEM BOOK. 


unfailing promise that it shall stand forever. 
Shall we then fear lest it be not true of this 
feeble planting of the cross in Christ’s name, that 
the end thereof is better than the beginning ? 
Surely, surely not ! ” 

And my heart takes up the liopeful exclama- 
tion, and echoes Surely, surely not ! ” and 
again am I comforted. 

Swallow's Nest, Wednesday, April 11. 

My Cariad — I am indeed rejoicing in your hap- 
piness and his, that your beloved father, cut off 
in the noon of his days, has so soon gone to the 
Ancient of Days whose years fail not. I remem- 
ber him saying in bitterness of spirit, as the gray 
glamour of death settled over your bright, young 
face, — “I will go down into the grave unto my 
son mourning ; ” — and ^neas has met his Asca- 
nius at last in fairer realms than prophesied 
Latium, where he reigns a king and priest to 
God. 

It is not that we saw him die unmoved, for the 
fine gold of our life is again dimmed, and we 
feel that insatiable Death has reserved his great- 
est triumph till the last, waiting till we thought 
his back was turned, and he had gone forgetting 
274 


faith: whitens letter book. 


how to smite, then coming down suddenly as a 
Avily enemy on an unsuspecting foe — and there 
is no discharge in that war. 

In the barley-field — green now with life up- 
springing from death — they lifted the sod and 
laid him, while the sun shone brightly, and the 
birds sang, and the full soul of nature seemed to 
joy in his joy, — that the Lord had lifted off the 
heavy burden of care that he took on himself as 
a duty imposed by the Cross-Bearer, and had 
called him, so faithful in a few things to be ruler 
over many. 

I began my Latin reading the day the May- 
flower sailed. It is very kind in Wrestling to 
take the trouble to hear me read alone, but he 
said he wanted to review Latin himself, and he 
would like to do so in that form, so I am reading 
Cicero’s oration over his dead friend, the poet 
Archias. 

The first two or three lessons were very sad, 
my Cariad, and I know my patient teacher must 
have wandered at my dullness, and why my tears 
dripped fast on the pages before me, — for I 
could not read ; the letters swam as in a mist ; 
and instead I saw your earnest face bent over 
Virgil, and heard your voice souiidbig his sono- 

21 o 


FAITH WHITENS EETTER BOOK, 


rous verse as he sang of men and their exploits. 
Blit it was all wrong to let sad memory pre- 
vent present duty, and the last few lessons have 
indeed been pleasant. 

Wrestling brought me a strange chrysalis the 
other day, and told me many wonderful things 
concerning it. I have watched its changes with 
much interest, and yesterday, a little after your 
father unfolded his loosed wings, — the imprison- 
ed Psyche broke her bonds, and came forth 
gloriously changed. For a few moments, uncer- 
tain how best to enjoy her new liberty, she lin- 
gered near the deserted teijement, then trying 
her gilded, gossamer sails, floated away in the 
upper deep till I saw her no more. 

Her empty house still hangs on the twig in the 
sunlight, — as lies your father’s earthly house, 
with darkened windows, — no soul-look out- 
shining from them, for the charmed spirit has 
gone to the Charmer, the God of spirits who 
gave it, in whom it had its beginning, but shall 
know no end. 

Swallow^ s Nest, Saturday, May 12. . 

To-day was mother’s wedding-day — she is now 
Mrs. Winslow. At first as the hours sped oil' and 
276 


IPAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK, 


the set time drew nearer, neither of us could 
bear to speak of it ; — it seemed sadder than 
death itself to be so soon rejoicing in wedding 
festivities. But as we became accustomed to the 
idea, that feeling wore away, till I myself began 
to look forward to the day as ushering in a new 
order of things : a breaking up of the dreary 
past, as the heavy rains — winter’s tempestuous 
tears of sorrow at coming death — filled and 
swelled the town brook, broke up its strong, icy 
fetters that leaped and cracked in huge cakes 
over the falls, and were heaped up high in the 
rocky bed below, but finally sunk or floated away. 

There in preparation for this first Christian 
wedding in the New World, — coming through 
tears, since but for death it had not been, we 
forget the sorrowful past, and that Mrs. Carver 
was rapidly sinking — speeding on to her eternal 
union. 

The seed is all planted and growing nicely, the 
green leaves are large on many of the trees, and 
the Indians camped near come and go with the 
utmost good-will — being in fact almost too fond 
of us. We are happy, inasmuch as God smiles 
on our labors in fertile showers and quickening 
277 




FAITH WHITF>S lETTFR BOOK. 


sunshine, so it was resolved to make it a day of 
great rejoicing. 

Mother took from the iron-bound chest the 
long unworn wedding-dress of ten years ago, — 
she was only sixteen then — as old as I ! — and 
as she unfolded the heavy brocade, yellowed by 
time, it presented a strange contrast with our 
humble surroundings. 

From Mrs. Winslow’s laces, Mr. Winslow se- 
lected the rarest, which looked like the frost-work . 
that used to lie in delicately pencilled tracery on 
• our one pane of glass in each window ; and Cap- 
tain Standish brought the pearls his Rose used to 
wear — not fairer than his own one pearl that 
the Lord took for His casket of jewels, — and in- 
sisted that mother should deck herself in them. 
In addition to these ornaments, a wreath of white 
wild flowers, made by Priscilla’s deft fingers, com- 
pleted a costume good enough for a queen ; and no 
queen is more worthy than my fair young mother. 

From the woods we gathered pine boughs and 
limbs of budding trees, and climbing and trailing 
vines to decorate the Rendezvous — our meeting- 
house — where the ceremony was to take place. 
Beneath an arch we had made, stood my mother, 
— as sweet a bride as ever sun shone on, — 
278 


faith: whitens zfttef booh. 


beside her Mr. Winslow, still young, only twenty- 
six, and Mr. Bradford — as Governor having the 
authority to do so — in the quaint, expressive 
words of Scripture made them twain one 
flesh.” 

Tables were afterwards spread in the Rendez- 
vous, and though not laden with the variety and 
good cheer of Holland or bonnie England, and 
not beautiful with much of silver and china, yet 
nevertheless there was an abundance for which 
we were truly thankful — for it seems quite like 
the miraculous manna and quails of the desert, 
that we should have so many of earth’s greatest 
luxuries at our very door — to be had for the 
gathering. 

Samoset and Squanto had been deeply inter- 
ested in the approaching gaiety, pai^cularly the 
latter, who is on most friendly terms with Cap- 
tain Standish, the two often hunting for a day 
together, and in their mutual taciturnity scarcely 
speaking a word. These Indian friends had 
brought in venison, several varieties of fish, and 
oysters and clams innumerable. With our plen- 
tiful eggs, Goodwife Brewster made many luxu- 
ries that seemed incredible to my poor knowledge 
without milk and butter, and that made me 
279 


T'ATTTT WHITENS EE ITEM BOOK. 


believe what she once said to me, laughingly 

— yet somewhat in earnest — after I had been 
pouring my kitchen failures and temptations in 
her motherly ear ; “ The better Christian one is, 
the better will they be in every respect, even as a 
cook, my dear ! and her light, delicious cakes, 
and new kinds of pies, were a triumph of Chris- 
tian skill, — a culinary wonder to me, as much 
as her continuous nearness to God and unfailing 
thankfulness are spiritual incomprehensibilities. 

In place of Holland beer and Rhenish wine, 
we had some home manufactured beer, made 
from various fragrant, spicy herbs, flavored with 
sassafras and cherry-bark, — the making and 
brewing of which were also the invention of 
Goodwife Brewster’s bewilderingly clever hand 
and head. And with happy hearts we made 
merry, eating our feast and spending the day in 
rejoicing, — none more light-hearted, nor with 
better reason, than Mrs. Carver, who lifted her 
head from the pillow, and kissed mother’s cheek, 

— so rosy beside her pale, wan face, — and with 
faltering voice wished them abundance of happi- 
ness as they trod life’s ways side by side in the 
coming years. 

A few fierce-looking Indians — still terrible to 
280 


FAITH WHITENS IE T TEH BOOH. 


me even in their best humor — with their curi- 
ous, admiring squaws, and timid children, came 
ill from the woods to look on and wonder, — glad 
to eat of the abundance of the remnants of our 
feast. So ignorant are they, and apparently sat- 
isfied in their brutal ignorance, that we can seem 
to make no impression on them concerning di- 
vine things, owing in part perhaps to Squanto’s 
imperfect knowledge of English. 

We have learned through him that they be- 
lieve in a Great Spirit above, — not a tender 
Father yearning over them with love unspeak- 
able, but a terrible Sovereign, who smiles on 
them when He gives success in the chase, and 
frowns ill the voice of His thunder and windy 
tempests. The brave warriors look forward to a 
home with Him in the Spirit-Land, where un- 
wearied they shall rove through boundless 
forests filled with game, and with an unerring 
arrow bring the fleet deer to the ground, where 
they shall know neitlier hunger nor thirst, nor be 
compelled to labor, nor suffer any of the tor- 
ments of their present life : but in all these com- 
forting expectations they give their women little 
share. 

^quanto is earnest in his inquiries, and seems 
281 


FAITH WHITF>S lETTFIt BOOK. 


to be seeking to know more of this religion of 
ours, — wondering that we did not make greater 
show of grief over our dead Governor ; he sits in 
our meetings with his dark, sober face full of 
questioning and perplexity, and asked Captain 
Standish and Mr. Bradford such strange ques- 
tions concerning our God and Heaven. 

0 that the Son of man, who died to redeem 
just such men, would flood his groping soul with 
beams from the true light, and gather him as the 
first fruits unto life eternal, of this sowing in tears 
here in the wilderness. 

Thus in joyful peace and festivity this wedding- 
day has gone by, and the full moon looks down 
to-night in quiet, sympathetic beauty, shining on 
our little world now almost gone to sleep, and 
touching the gently-tossing ocean to a glory that 
reminds me of the land Beautiful across the 
river. 


Swallow's Nest, Monday, May 14. 

‘‘ For the love of God constraineth us,’’ was 
Mr. Brewster’s text yesterday. Constraineth us ! 
— like the magnet drawing the far-off magnet to 
itself, — like that mysterious attraction which 


282 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEM BOOK. 


draws all things to a centre, — and to us who 
believe that centre, God in Christ. 

A constraining love that creates an answering 
love. I thought of it as, after hearing that your 
mother, my Cariad, had at last sighed away her 
life, and like a tired child had gone to sleep, I 
went out and sat on the cliff, near our hill of 
hope, and looked seaward. 

For her life was one of continuous love to God 
and man, and the force of that attachment to her 
Maker, had constrained her to love Himself. As 
Elder Brewster said — “ Loving each other we 
love Christ ; loving Him perfectly, we are perfect- 
ly holy; and perfectly holy, we are perfectly 
happy ; so then Heaven is in our souls and we in 
Heaven.’’ 

It was at low-tide, and I looked along the 
muddy flats covered with decayed sea-weed, and 
strewed with skeletons of fishes and muscles ; 
through the murky shallows, filled with long sea- 
grass, I watched the stream winding along seek- 
ing the sea. But little by little the tide flowed 
in, covering deficiences here and there, each 
higher-beating tidal pulse throwing a fresh cur- 
rent of sea-water, till I saw only the great 
Bay studded with islands, where the sunshine 
283 


FAITH WHITE>S IE TIER BOOK. 


kissed the glad-bounding waves, lighting up the 
wrmkles of Ocean’s face, and gemmed the tossing 
emerald hill : and far beyond the sand-bar cross- 
ing the Bay and the wooded islets, rose pine-clad 
Manomet, — a steep hill covered with trees, 
whose dark foliage on the crest shaded down to 
the faintest green tints of spring. 

As I looked with eyes that could not be satis- 
fied with seeing, it occurred to me that our life 
on earth without Christ was at low tide always, 
— crawling lazily and in a maze among muddy 
shallows, its flat shores skeleton-strewed, and its 
turbid waters made yet more sluggish by inter- 
lacing grasses — things of time and sense that 
catch and hold us as we strive to reach the sea. 

But God’s constraining love is mightier than 
them all, and He sends it tiding over our hearts, 
and lo ! these broken cisterns and bitter foun- 
tains, — all these low, slimy streams of thought 
and action, — arc filled and cleansed, and, con- 
strained to seek its source, our purified life-tide 
passes through a Baca valley, that becomes to 
us as a well filled with living waters flowing 
from, and onward to the eternal fountain opened 
for us in the house of David. 


284 


CHAPTER XXI. 


Swallow's Nest, Thursday, June 14. 

' ITHIN a few days we have had quite 
an unwonted excitement to break 
the sweet monotony of our life. 
John Billington, an elder brother of Francis the 
Discoverer, having lost all fear of the Indians, 
and enamored of their roving wild ways, about 


ten days ago strayed off as usual into the woods. 
He had often spent a night or two with the ' 
Indians near us in the forests, so at first we were 
not alarmed, but two days having passed, and 
finding that they knew nothing of him, every- 
body went in vain search for three days, till 
finally we concluded that he must have been 
destroyed by wolves or bears, or some other 
ferocious wild animals, that the Indians tell us 
are not unfrequent in these regions. 

It was very sad to think of the poor boy wan- 


FAITH WHITE’S LETTER BOOK. 


dering up and down the mazy forests, trackless 
save where the deer had trodden paths, living on 
berries and roots, each hour growing weaker and, 
more despairing, yet, buoyed up by the hope of 
finding home, staggering on, till at last, over- 
come by hunger and weariness he lay down to 
die, or become the prey of wild beasts, and for 
many niglits I could ' not close my eyes to sleep 
without dreaming of him, and hearing again his 
afflicted mother’s cries and lamentations, who 
forgetting how often she had said, “ My boys are 
the most insufferable torments ! I wish they were 
out of my sight never to return ! ” and true to 
her motherly instincts, repeated over and over 
that he had always been a good boy, recalling his 
various filial acts in detail ; meanwhile in her in- 
consistency, punishing poor Francis because he 
had ranged the woods with his brother, and thus 
both had acquired the habit that had resulted so 
fatally to John. Mr. Billiiigton was also com- 
pletely broken down by the loss of his “ noble 
boy,” as he called him, but varied the exercise 
of his heart’s grief in the same way as his wife, 
till our sympathies were divided between John 
and Francis, with a decided preponderance in 
favor of the latter, — poor scape-goat that he was 


FAITH WHITF^S LETTER BOOK. 


for the sins of the family ! — who tearfully con- 
fided his afflictions to Paul and Samuel, closing 
them with this expressed determination — ‘‘I Ve 
just as good a mind as ever I had to eat to go 
and lose myself in the woods, and be eat up by a 
bear, and see then if father and mother won’t 
think something of me ! ” 

But on the seventh day, before Francis had 
carried his painful resolution into effect, and we 
had given up John entirely, Squanto came from 
Massasoit, camped 'now at some distance from us, 
bringing word that the lost boy, having wandered 
five days in the woods, had entered an Indian 
plantation ; and after being fed and restored, he 
had been carried to the Nausites ; so Governor 
Bradford sent ten men in the shallop, with 
Squanto, and Tokamahamon — another good In- 
dian friend of ours — to bring him home. They 
started on the eleventh of June, and after being 
out in a severe thunder storm, during which a 
great water-spout rose at a short distance from 
them, but without injury, they anchored near 
land at night, and next morning saw two Indians 
catching lobsters, who told them John was well 
and still at Nauset : but for friendship’s sake our 
men went on shore there, and met their Sachem, 
287 


FAITH WHITE’S LETTER BOOK. 


whom they describe as a very gentle, courteous 
young man of twenty-six years — quite unlike a 
savage except in dress. 

While eating with him and his men as a pledge 
of friendliness, an old woman, apparently more 
than a hundred years of age, came to see them, 
and at once burst out in a great passion of grief, 
— for three of her sons were among the Indians 
who went on board ship to trade, and were 
treacherously carried off by that infamous Cap- 
tain Hunt. Through Squanto, as interpreter, 
they told the poor old soul of their sorrow and 
indignation that any Englishman should have 
done so wicked a thing, and assured her that not 
for all the possessions the Indians had, would any 
of us commit so horrible a crime. 

After they had comforted the heart-broken, old 
Indian mother as well as they were able, — John 
Howland said, “ Giving her a brass .finger-ring 
and bracelet seemed to touch her heart more than 
anything we could say, and the addition of a 
little knife convinced her of the genuineness of 
our sympathy!” — they sailed for Nauset, the 
pleasant Indian Chief lyanough, and two of his 
men accompanying them. The tide was so spent 
when they neared there, that they could not take 
288 


FAITH WHITENS TETTER BOOK. 


the shallop to the shore, but Squanto, and lya- 
nough and his men, went on land to tell why the 
English had come, and soon some of the same 
Indians that had attacked our men near that very 
spot in the winter, went to the boat, among the 
number the owner of the corn that our men had 
taken, who offered to pay him then for it, or 
when he should come to Plymouth to trade, as he 
preferred. 

After sunset Aspinet, the Nausite Chief, went to 
the boat, with a great train of followers, full fifty 
in number, having with them the boy sitting on 
the shoulders of a stalwart Indian as they waded 
to the shallop, an equal number being left on 
shore, standing armed with bows and arrows. 
They gave up John highly adorned with chains 
of beads, and quite proud of the honor and 
attention paid to him : in return the Chief thank- 
fully received a knife, and they also gave one to 
the Indian that had found John and taken care 
of him. They came home next day, and after 
Mrs. Billington had indulged herself in a short 
cry over her prodigal son, the father heedless of 
his repeated protestation, — Indeed I didn’^ 
lose myself on purpose ! ” gave him a good whip- 
ping, both parents assuring him that he was the 
28 y 


FAITH WHITENS TETTER BOOK. 


worst boy they ever knew, quite unlike his good 
brother Francis, who never ran away and made 
everybody so much trouble, — upon whom every 
one of John’s heathenish chains of beads should 
be bestowed ; and a promise was made him of 
similar punishment if ever again he went out of 
sight of Plymouth Town — intermixed with re- 
grets that he had been found instead of being 
devoured by bears or wolves in the wilderness, as 
he deserved ! Poor parents — poo^ boys ! 

Swallow's Nest, Monday, June 18. 

Again has the quiet of our colony been much 
disturbed — this time in a way we had not 
deemed possible. 

As soon as the planting and sowing were over, 
the men commenced diligently to fish, prepare 
lumber, and go out on excursions to obtain any- 
thing suitable for freighting a ship when another 
shall come and return home. With busy hands 
and cheerful hearts we had been enjoying the 
sunshine, the wealth of roses, red, white, and 
damask, single, indeed, but with the most perfect, 
<Jelicate buds ; the fields white with strawberry- 
blossoms, like flocks of sheep lying at rest on the 
hillsides ; the wild plum and cherry trees, that in 
290 


FAITS WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


full bloom lay like odorous banks of snow — pink- 
tinged as when lighted up by the mysteriously 
solemn northern lights — among the darker foli- 
age of the forest, where the brown trunks and 
green-leaved boughs were embraced and covered 
by twining grape-vines, which promise full clus- 
ters in their season ; and midst this natural pro- 
fusion and beauty, prophetic of good to be, we 
were happy, spite of the incessant toil and weari- 
some labor to which all of us had not been accus- 
tomed. 

But worse than the savages wandering here, 
who see the Great Spirit’s hand and presence in 
these good gifts, two men, servants of Mr. Hop- 
kins, from London, having had some quarrel, 
to-day fought a duel with swords and daggers. 
They dared ask no one to stand by as second 
except Mr. John Billington, who is like unto 
themselves, and who committed the first offence 
against law the day after Governor Carver’s re- 
election, refusing with contemptuous speeches to 
obey the commands of Captain Standish as mil- 
tary ruler, for which he was sentenced to have 
his neck and heels tied together, but he humbled 
himself, and asked pardon, which was granted 
him. 


291 


FAITH WHITE’S LETTER BOOK. 

These two foolish men, one wounded in the 
neck, the other in the thigh, received the same 
sentence, to be continued for twenty-four hours 
without food and drink, but after an hour, 
through Mr. Hopkins’ intercession, and their own 
humble request with promise to do better, they 
were released by Governor Bradford, 

Thus it is God teaches us that we cannot 
escape from our wicked heart, that with His 
presence, from which we cannot flee, we carry 
our corruption also ; and without the Divine 
Arm, even here where it seems as if the tempter 
would not think to come, we do, and shall fall 
into all manner of out-breaking sin. 

Swallow^ s Nest, Monday, July 6. 

Mr. Winslow and Mr. Hopkins came in late 
Saturday night from a tedious expedition of 
friendship and trade to King Massasoit, and Mr. 
Winslow has been entertaining us with their 
varied experiences. 

Taking Squaiito as guide and interpreter, they 
started Tuesday, July third, having a coat made 
of red cotton, and trimmed with gold lace, as a 
present deemed acceptable to His Majesty, also a 


292 


FAITH WHITENS LET TEH BOOK. 


copper chain, which he is to use for mutual 
benefit. 

All summer we have been more or less trou- 
bled by the Indians living near, who come in 
great numbers, and stay with us living off our 
bounty, as they are really too lazy to hunt and 
fish for themselves when they can get subsistence 
more easily. Therefore they went to request 
Massasoit to put the chain on any one coming to 
us as a messenger from him, that he might be 
treated with all the respect due to the King’s em- 
bassador ; and only the Indians having furs to 
sell, or other articles of trade, should come to 
Plymouth at all. 

Another object was to pay for the corn taken 
in the winter, and still another to exchange corn 
with them, that it might be seen which was 
better adapted to the soil and climate of Ply- 
mouth. 

Starting early last Tuesday, their first stopping 
point was at Nawaschet, an Indian town of con- 
siderable size fifteen miles .distant, that had pre- 
viously been supposed near by, as the Indians 
come from there to us so freely on all occasions. 
At this place they were entertained in the best 
possible manner, and feasted on bread made frojn 
293 


FAITH WHITF^S lETTFIt BOOK, 

corn, and the spawn of shad, boiled with musty 
acorns. “ It was no particular addition to the 
flavor of the new dish,” said Mr. Winslow to me, 
“ and I advise you not to try the experiment in 
your future cookery I ” 

They killed there eighty crows, — a large, 
black, uncanny-looking bird, not unlike the En- 
glish raven, Mr. Winslow says, which does great 
damage by pulling up the young stalks of corn 
to get the seeds. After thus winning the grati- 
tude, as well as the intense admiration of the 
Indians, they went on eight miles farther where 
a company of Indians were camped in ah open 
field, engaged in catching bass from a large river, 
where the tide beats daily, and there they spent 
the night. 

The next day they started with six Indians in 
company, and following up the river six miles, 
forded it ; while crossing they observed two sav- 
ages, one very old, who seized their bows and 
arrows, and making a stand on the farther bank, 
demanded who they were, and whence they came. 
On being assured they were friends, the cautious, 
dauntless Indians received them very cordially, 
feeding them, and took each in return a small 


294 


faith: whitens iettejr book. 

bracelet, with many demonstrations of thankful- 
ness. 

The Indian guides showed Mr. Winslow and 
Mr. Hopkins special favor and kindness, carrying 
their guns and extra clothing, and even the men 
themselves on their shoulders, when it was neces- 
sary to ford a river or deep stream. So they 
journeyed all the day through a partially cleared 
country, abounding in great timber, but lone and 
deserted now, for the pestilence had found its 
way there also, and after meeting several Indians, 
and passing through another town where they 
were fed, they reached Packanokik, forty miles 
distant, and there they awaited Massasoit’s 'ar- 
rival. 

At Squanto’s request they were to fire their 
pieces as the king approached, but the poor 
women and children were so terrified as they saw 
them take up their guns to load, that they ran 
away in a panic, but being repeatedly assured 
that no harm was intended, a part of the more 
courageous returned to see them salute Massasoit, 
who received the honor with pleasure, welcomed 
the embassadors, and with great pride immedi- 
ately dressed himself in his red coat and copper 


295 


FAITH WHITE’S lETTEM BOOH. 

chain, and strutted up and down before his de- 
lighted people. 

He promised all that our messengers asked, 
and calling his warriors together addressed them 
in a long speech, asking if he were not king — 
was not such a town his, — would they not be at 
peace with the English, and bring furs and other 
articles of trade to our men, — and so on, to 
each separate question of which they responded 
favorably, and with loud applause : having named 
at least thirty towns in this way, it became in- 
sufferably tedious, and with great relief and joy 
the tired embassadors applauded his last speech. 

After the people had retired. King Massasoit 
offered them tobacco, and asked many questions 
concerning England and King James, wondering 
especially that so great a King had no wife. So ‘ 
the hours sped by in satisfying his curiosity con- 
cerning His Majesty across the great waters, and 
our men were hungry and weary, but Massasoit 
gave them no supper, having none to offer them ; 
and when at last, late in the night, they ex- 
pressed a desire to go to rest, he signified that 
they, as also two Indians Chiefs present, would 
share the bed he and his were to occupy — which 


296 


FAITH WHITE’S lETTEll BOOK. 


' was simply a few planks raised a foot from the 
ground, and covered with a thin mat. 

It was a very warm night, and the Savages 
have a habit of singing themselves to sleep, — 
‘‘ In not the most musical tones ! ” Mr. Winslow 
said, — while vermin of all kinds abounded in 
the filthy hut, so, weary as they were, they slept 
but little ; and having to eat, on tlie next day, 
only a small piece of fish, and a partridge that 
Wrestling Brewster liad shot and I cooked for 
Mr. Winslow to take with him, added to another 
night of similar discomfort in the crowded wig- 
wam, they left for home before sunrise, on Friday 
morning, poorly able to take so great a journey, 
after such a fast and want of sleep. 

They travelled till evening on the strength of a 
little meal given them by some Indians they met, 
when one of the Indians in the company killed a 
squirrel and shad, and they camped for the night 
sending Tokamahon on to us, that we might 
forward some food to Nawaschet for them. 

But while our weary men rested, the two faith- 
ful guides caught fish and cooked them, else they 
would have had nothing to eat before their travel 
of the next day, for a heavy thunder-storm rose 
during the night, that put out their fire and con- 
297 




FAITH WHITE’S IE T TEE BOOK. 


tinned with great violence all day Saturday. 
About noon they reached Nawaschet, where they 
gave presents to all the Indians that had shown 
them favors, except one of the six guides, that 
had deserted them on the way. At his expres- 
sions of surprise at receiving nothing, they told 
him he deserved no present, but finally gave him 
a trifle, and when they offered tobacco in return, 
they told him before all the people that he had 
stolen some by the way, and if it was of that 
they would not touch it, — that their God would 
be angry and punish them if they should. 

This seemed to gratify the rest, and mortify 
the thievish Indian, who tried to make amends 
for past misconduct by carrying Mr. Winslow on 
his back through the river. Late at night, wet 
and weary, they reached home safely, and Mr. 
Winslow, after being refreshed by the supper we 
had kept waiting for him, said that our humble 
home, now divided into three rooms, and a loft 
overhead useful for storage, with plastered walls 
and a shingled roof, seemed to him as a princely 
palace, and for the future he was ready to resign 
all the dignity and honor of being an embassador 
to the Court of King Massasoit. 


298 . 


FAITS WiriTF^S FETTER BOOK. 


Swallow^ s Nest, Wednesday, August 15. 

More than a month has passed by since I 
wrote, speeding on day by day in cares and 
duties, that become positive pleasures, in propor- 
tion as we obey the apostolic injunction, — doing 
whatever our hands find to do “ heartily, as to 
the Lord, and not to men : a pleasant month 
of picking’ strawberries, reddening all the hills 
their blossoms whitened, and a little later rasp- 
berries, crimsoning in plentiful lusciousness on the 
bushes, which we gathered and dried for winter 
use : a beautiful month, that has developed every 
hour in each day some new grace and charm in 
the little charmer of our Swallow’s Nest, — our 
Peregrine, — just as every day adds something 
novel to the face of Nature, that makes us love 
our new home more and more. 

Each morning I rise early, and prepare break- 
fast that the family may be at their daily toil in 
good time, and every evening in the lingering 
twilight, — that kindles earth to a blush, and 
then seems loth to leave what it has made so 
fair, — we gather somewhere and sing, q,nd talk, 
and are such a happy, peaceful world within our- 
selves, that if but a few more of our dear friends 
were here, this would seem to us the fairest land, 
299 


FAITH WHITE’S LETTER BOOK. 


ours the happiest lot of all earth’s restless 
mortals. 

But within a few days this ever-changing life 
has been again changed. Sometime ago it was 
rumored -that a conspiracy had been made 
against Massasoit, and two days ago, that Squanto 
— whom the savages rightly call “ The English- 
man’s moiith,” because he is so friendly and in- 
valuable as an interpreter — was killed. The 
Governor at once assembled the men, and sent 
Captain Standish with nine of his militia to 
Nawaschet, to punish Conbatant, a Chief under 
Massasoit, who was there stiring up sedition, and 
if he had murdered Squanto as was reported, his 
life was to pay the penalty. 

Yesterday morning, in the midst of a heavy 
rain, the valorous army started under the leader- 
ship of their intrepid captain, and while we spent 
a season in prayer, — as we always do to ask 
God’s blessing on every expedition, — they were 
marching up and down the hills and valleys be- 
tween us and the revolting Indians. 

Hiding, near the town, they entered it under 
the friendly shadow of night, and surrounding a 
house in which tlie rebellious Chief was supposed 
to be, left a guard outside, while a few went 
300 


FAITH WHITENS LETTEB BOOK 


boldly ill. So terrified were the rebels within, 
that although our men ordered none to leave, 
several ran out and were slightly wounded by the 
guards. But Conbatant was not in the house, 
and Squanto was still living, who, with Tokama- 
hamon, came soon, and quieted the alarmed sav- 
ages, — the cowardly boys among them continu- 
ally crying out, “ I am a woman ! ” hoping thus 
to be safe, as they had noticed that our men were 
very kind and gentle to the Indian women. 

When quiet was restored, Captain Standish 
took their bows and arrows from tlienf, and kept 
them till morning, when they breakfasted with 
Squanto, assuring the trembling rebels that if 
Conbatant offered violence to any of our Indian 
friends with whom a treaty of peace had been 
made, he would suffer for it. Having thus 
struck suitable terror into the hearts of all for 
daring to rise against the rightful sovereignty of 
King James’ ally, Massasoit, they came home this 
evening bringing with them a man and woman 
that were wounded, whom we shall nurse and 
restore to health, — and thus has triumphantly 
ended the Frst Indian War. 


301 


CHAPTER XXII. 




Swallow^ s Nest, Thursday, Sept. 20. 

ND more than a month has again passed 
since I have had, or taken time to write, 
aifd as at my last letter, — if indeed 
these are letters now, — I have to speak of days 
of trickling sunshine, touching the waving bar- 
ley-field to gold, — making the corn-stalks bend 
under their heavy weight of ears, — turning the 
fruit on the full plum trees to beautiful, luscious 
hues, — making the limbs to grow with their de- 
licious burden of cares ; finally of another Indian 
expedition, more extensive than the former and 
important in results. 

Captain Standish’s prompt and energetic ac- 
tion struck dismay into the hearts of all the 
Indian Chiefs, and Conbatant himself, through 
the forgiving Massasoit, interceded for pardon : 
while the Great King, influenced in part, doubt- 
302 


FAITH WHITENS TETTER BOOK. 


less, by the effort made in his behalf, wrote a 
letter with his own hand to Captain Standish, 
saying that the King of England was his Master ; 
and nine of the Chiefs under him hastened to 
secure the friendship of so powerful a people 
as Squanto has falsely reported us to be, declar- 
ing, among other things, that we had in our pos- 
session a cask containing the Great Plague, and 
that we can at will produce incurable disease 
among our enemies, and so superstitious are 
they as to believe it. 

Having thus the confidence, as well as the un- 
bounded awe and veneration of the savages near 
by, it was thought best that a party should go to 
the Massachusetts, a tribe sixty miles distant by 
water, who, though under Massasoit’s authority, 
have often threatened us. Ten men were select- 
ed with Squanto and two other savages. On the 
second day they came to the home of a Sachem 
among them, who said his part of the tribe was 
small and weak, ' and that the Massachusetts 
Queen across the Bay was his enemy ; he gladly 
made peace with our* men, and accompanied 
them to the Queen’s territory. 

The house in which the king had lived and. 
been murdered, was different from any other they 
303 


FAITS WHITE’S TETTER BOOK. 


had seen, being built on a platform raised several 
feet from the ground, and left standing desolate. 
Farther on they came to a Fort surrounded with 
a palisade of long poles, having a deep trench on 
each side ; within was a house where the king’s 
body lay, and his wife reigned in his place. 

The men of the tribe were nearly all absent, 
and they denied that the queen was at home : the 
poor women, in terrible fear, gathered their corn 
in heaps and ran away, but afterwards became 
more courageous and fed the strangers on boiled 
cod, and such other food as they had, and at 
length, after much persuasion, one man came to 
them, who gladly accepted the proposition to 
trade, and he and the women brought many furs 
to sell 

Squanto, in the unregenerateness of his heart 
seeing no practical beauty in Christ’s commands 
to return good for evil, advised our men to seize 
the furs of the timid, helpless women, — who 
seemed very modest and gentle, Mr. Winslow 
says, — declaring as a good reason, therefor, that 
they were a bad people, and had often threatened 
us. But Mr. Winslow told him they would 
wrong no one, and give no occasion for offence, 
although if they attempted to injure us they 
304 


FAITH WHITE’S EETTEB BOOK, 


would be punished far more severely than by 
simply taking their furs. 

This seemed to add to the poor creatures’ con- 
fidence in the English, and after a day spent in 
profitable trading, our men returned home, wind- 
ing by the clear moonlight through the beautiful 
Bay of Massachusetts, studded with little islands, 
many of which had once been cleared and inhab- 
ited, but now lying solemnly desolate in the shim-^ 
mering light of the moon, because the swift 
Angel of the Lord, whose name is Death, had 
spied them out and swept over them ; and to-day 
our men are home again, full of thankfulness at 
the success of this last voyage on missions of 
peace and good-will. 

Plymouth^ Friday, October 5. 

I sit by your grave this chill autumn day, my 
Cariad, while the cloud-shadows wander up* and 
down the brown-grassed hills, or linger, and 
chase each other in gloomy, make-believe playful- 
ness over the forests that cover the hillsides with 
trailing banners and floating pennons of gold and 
scarlet, green, broidered with yellow and purple, 
— so soon gloriously bright, though at the be- 
ginning of the week only the finger-tips of the 

305 


FAITH whitens EETTFJt BOOK. 


maple’s extended arms dripped blood, to show 
that the frost had chilled its mystic life-wine ; 
and only the vines covering the decayed and un- 
sightly stumps and trunks of trees, were crimson- 
ed with the breath of their latest passion — 
the regal pomp of death. 

Here, where the pine-tree drops her brown and 
yellow — here, on the sharp stubble standing over 
^the unmarked place where you sleep, I add the 
bitter rain of my tears, as 1 had never thought to 
weep again over you, and myself, and life’s in- 
evitable sadnesses. 

But I have been carrying an unusual life-bur- 
den this week, — a sad secret, — and as I came 
here in my last great grief to read my mother’s 
precious letter to her desolate child, so it seemed 
to me that I should find rest and comfort by com- 
ing hither and telling you this, where the mourn- 
ful crickets chirp incessantly, and the lingering 
robin sings as if broken-hearted ; so that when I 
go in mother will not say again, “ My dear Faith, 
your eyes look so sad and dreamy, — are you sick, 
or what is the matter ? ” nor shall I be startled 
by their mournfuhiess as they are refl<icted to me, 
when I glance in my little glass and brush away 
my hair for the night. 

306 


FAITH WHITENS IE T TEE BOOK, 


Yesterday morning Wrestling Brewster came 
in early to say good-bye : he and another man 
were going on a fishing and hunting expedition, 
to be absent a week, getting supplies for a feast 
that we are to give Massasoit and his men next 
week, so my Latin will have to be laid aside. 
He gave me a folded paper as he went away, — 
an act that made my foolish heart beat quickly 
for a moment, because I thought of the many 
letters he had brought once from Patience, and at 
the instant I forgot the utter impossibility of its 
coming from her dear hand. 

“ Faith,” he said very low and earnestly, and 
ill a husky voice, “ I shall want an answer when 
I return. God bless you ! ” and went away, 
while I stood trembling and frightened, at what I 
could not tell, for I still supposed it was some of 
his English themes that I was to put into most 
classical Latin, so many of which he has brought 
from time to time, especially when it was neces- 
sary that he should omit one oi>two lessons. 

But it was not. It was instead a letter from 
him, — so strange fo me, so unexpected, that had 
a star fallen and settled on my head I should not 
have been more astonished. I looked at it again 
and again, convinced that the mist over my eyes 
307 


FAITH WHITE* SJLETTEB BOOK. 


must have deceived me ; and that the trembling 
of the paper in my hand misled me as I read : — 

My Dear Faith : 

Doubtless it will surprise you to receive this 
epistle from the hand of your old, long-tried 
friend, who has often carried you, when a child, 
with his sister Patience in his arms, and to whom 
you look up with the same child-like trust and 
confidence as then, that I do not wish to shake or 
change, — so that for weeks I have refused my 
lips to speak what has so often trembled on them, 
and denied my heart what it has craved to tell 
you, — that you whom I have called my dear 
little sister, have long been, and are now dearer 
to me than sister or mother, or any other earthly 
friend ; that I have learned to think of you as 
the very dearest — next to Him in whom we all 
are beloved. . 

“ A prudent wife is from the Lord,” saith the 
Bible, and like a plain, outspoken man as you 
know me to be, I come straight to the point, and 
tell you that I have dared to wish, and almost 
hope, that you with your fair youth would crown 
my years, full twice yours, with that completest 
of eartlily blessings — a good wife ; for so faith- 
308 


FAITH WHITF^S IFTTEJt BOOK. 


fill a friend, so tender a sister, such a devoted 
daughter, could be but a good wife. 

What you will think of so blunt a confession, 
I scarcely know, — what you will reply, I can 
only faintly hope, for I have never been able 
from the strength of my love and desire to make 
myself really believe that you could, or would 
care for me more, or otherwise than as my sister 
Patience, — and of such regard from you I am 
not worthy, — for I remember hearing you say 
that you feared me, and I hold it true of human, 
as of Divine love, that “ perfect love casteth out 
fear,” therefore, loving you well as I do, I am 
not afraid to trust my fate to your gentle hands, 
praying unceasingly to the Ruler and Consoler of 
all hearts, that, whatever you may be constrained 
to answer me from the depths of your true, in- 
most soul, I may have grace to hear it. That if 
so be you can love me ever so little in return for 
the whole heart that has been yours ever since 
you first lifted ycur brown eyes to mine, I be not 
puffed up, and make an idol unto myself, for- 
getting, in the wealth of your love, God who is 
Love. 

And if you cannot so care for me, unworthy 
of any of your care, — and I must resolutely 
309 


FAITH WHITENS ZETTEE BOOK* 


face this which seems most probable to me, — I 
have besought God to give me such abundant, 
and recompensing happiness in Himself and the 
Comforter, that I be not wholly overcome by in- 
ordinate grief, or unmanned for duty. 

My dear Faith, can you lay your little hand in 
my strong one, and let me lift you over life’s 
stony, up-hill ways, onward to the Heavenly 
City ? And will you be to me as the strong mag- 
net drawing the weak needle to itself, — even out 
of myself to your higher level, on and on till 
death do separate us ? 

But whatever may be your answer, my dearest 
Faith, it can in all future time make no differ- 
ence with the love I have and ever shall have for 
thee. 

The Lord guide us both to His grace and 
glory. 

Your friend. 

Wrestling Brewster. 

Saturday^ September 29, 1621. 

And this, my Cariad, is that over which I have 
been sorrowing, — because I care for him so 
much, and he i§ so dear to me in his true noble- 
ness of soul, that I cannot bear to pain him as I 
310 


F^ITH WIIITE>S LETTEH BOOK. 


must, and tell him what I must, — that I do 
indeed love him, but only as a sister. 

I had never thought of it before. No one had 
ever teased me concerning him, as they do Eliza- 
beth Tilly about John Howland — whose wed- 
ding-day is not far off,— or Priscilla Mulbins and 
John Adams. He is so much older than I, so 
wise and learned, so dignified and noble, — how 
could or can he love little foolish me — or how 
should I ever dream of it ? 

My Cariad, I remember how you once read to 
me from Shakespeare, where Mark Antony, in his 
impassioned speech over dead Cgesar, his mur- 
dered friend, cries out as an apology for his for- 
getfulness of time, and place, and words irregular 
from choking grief ; — 

“ My heart is in the coffin there with Ceesar, 

And I must pause till it comes back to me ? ” 

And as I read Wrestling’s letter, it was to me 
as a revelation concerning this heart of mine, so 
unfathomable in its ashes, and longings, and 
waywardness, that it too is in my Caesar’s cofiin, 
— in a deep, deep grave, and that it will know 
never a resurrection, nor “ come back to me,” — 
but I shall go to thee, 0 my Caesar ! 

311 


faith: WHITE’S lETTEF BOOK. 


This faith and hope comfort me for myself — 
so much ! — but I take up the question and go 
over the whole ground again and again, 'wishing 
for Patience’s sake, — will she ever love me at all 
after she knows of this ? — and because of dear ’ 
good Elder Brewster and my adopted mother, 
and most of all for the sake of Wrestling, that 
among the cold ashes of my heart I could find 
a little of the flame of that love for which he 
asks, — but the very thought is an agony, and I 
am sick at soul with grief, and dread for the 
morrow, when he will return, and we shall walk 
slowly seaward, — as we have often done watch- 
ing the unresting tossing of the ocean-billows, — 
and he will ask my answer, and in some way I 
shall have to find words to tell him all this,- which, 
until a few days since I scarcely owned to my- 
self, or to you, my Cariad, having with you my 
heart as dead as the rose you hold in your white 
fingers. 

The Lord help me, — it seems to me that in 
this perplexity He is so far off, and that this cry 
of mine reaches Him not ; — forgive me wherein 
I have done wrong, and comfort him, my good, 
true friend, whose noble heart I am to pain so 
deeply. 


312 


FA.ITII WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


Swallow's Nest, Saturday, October 6. 

I went home yesterday with a comparatively 
lightened heart, and saw no shadow in my eyes 
at night, for I had cast my burden on the Lord, 
and it consoled me unspeakably to remember 
that we have no trials, no cares nor anxieties that 
we may not bring to that Jesus, who, with His 
divine knowledge of our needs, is touched with 
a feeling of our every infirmity. 

Wrestling and his party came home late last 
night with a goodly quantity of game, and call- 
ing early this morning greeted us all as usual, 
nor did he, or any one else, seem to notice that I 
sat still, pale and red by turns, and did not as 
always before run to meet him, and full of ques- 
tions chatter about his success ; till at length I 
began to wonder if I had not been dreaming all 
this, and wish that it was indeed so. 

Wrestling offered to take us in the afternoon 
where the beeches, walnuts, and hickories, frost- 
pinched, had been made to unclose their tight 
fingers, and drop their abundant stores on the 
ground below, and at the appointed time a merry 
party were ready with bags and baskets. 

For very dread I could scarcely see a nut at 
first, but Wrestling was in so cheerful, jJayful a 
313 


FAITH WHITE’S lETTEM BOOK, 


mood, that I had quite forgotten all my fear and 
care, and at length, a little apart from the rest of 
the busy nut-gatherers, was emulating the squir- 
rels around me actively gathering their winter 
stores, when he came near. 

‘‘ My little Faith,’’ he said in his gentle, earn- 
est way, ‘‘ I have waited patiently for your an- 
swer — can you give it me ? ” 

And not much frightened, only very, very 
sorry, — I found words to toll him I hardly knew 
what ; and as we walked slowly on he told me not 
to be grieved on his account — that he would 
have liked to brighten my life and heart had it 
been possible ; that your heart’s unrest had found 
repose in the God of peace where all hearts must 
be stilled at last. And he said, too, that far from 
having a shadow of blame or upbraiding for me, 
this love so freely given me had been a blessing 
to him — had made him a happier, better man, — 
how could that be? — and that in all comins: 

o 

years, as now, he should thank God for it, and if 
ever I needed a true friend I might be sure his 
heart, and aid, his prayers and benedictions were 
mine. 

So, as he bent down the laden branches, and 
we picked the triangular beechnuts from out the 

G14 


FAITS WHITE'S LETT EH BOOK, 


shells only half-opened by the frost, we talked 
pleasantly and cheerfully, each trying to comfort 
the other because the kernel of life had fallen 
out and left but a dry husk, with which we must 
try to be satisfied as we journey on to the com- 
pleteness of life eternal. • But I could not be 
quite easy because of Patience, and stooping to 
gather the nuts lying thick on the leaves below, 
that he might not see my face, begged him not to 
tell her. 

“ Bless your dear heart ! ” he answered with a 
very cheery laugh, it was her last request that I 
would do my part and ask you to marry me, so 
that she would have you for her own dear sister ! 
But she always said she knew you would not — 
and you see from her poor encouragement that 
she did not expect me to succeed ! ” 

Plow glad I was that Mary Chilton and cousin 
Samuel came up just then to compare baskets, 
and I had a great many more beechnuts in mine 
than either of them ! 

Thus easily has this burden been slipped from 
my shoulders, and so light-hearted was I when I 
came home to-night, that Mr. Winslow, seconded 
by mother, told Wrestling he was very glad he 
had returned, for I had missed my favorite Latin 
31<5 


FAITH WIIITF>S ZETTEF BOOK. 


lessons so much that I had never smiled during 
the week of his absence, with more to the same 
effect that I did not hear, for I ran in the next 
room to take Peregrine, who was opportunely 
crying, but as I went back in response to a call 
from Paul, Wrestling was replying that if such 
was the case he would appear punctually on 
Monday and give me my usual readings. 

Swallow^ s Nest, Friday, October 12. 

Our week of rejoicing and feasting has closed. 
For three days, commencing with Wednesday, 
we were honored with the presence of Massasoit, 
several of his Chiefs, and many warriors, ninety 
in all, whom we entertained and feasted on the 
best we had ; and they in return went out and 
shot some fine deer which they presented to the 
Governor, Captain Standish, and others. 

We had among the recreations a military re- 
view, Captain Standish going through all the 
drill with his invincible army, in as dignified a 
manner as Alexander the Great, or CaBsar him- 
self marshalled their unnumbered legions, and 
drew them up in battle-array : while the Indians 
in their turn, painted most grotesquely and 
hideously as when going to battle, dressed in 
316 


FAITS WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 

their fullest war-costume, went through their 
war-dances, and corn-dances, and gave us their 
manual of arms and warlike exercises. 

• This morning they parted from us after again 
renewing the treaty of peace by which we are 
knit together and serve each other as a protection 
from the powerful, barbarous Narragansetts, 
numbering thousands of stalwart warriors, Mas- 
sasoit says ; and at last, at the end of this jubilee 
week, having waved our sheaf of first-fruits be- 
fore the Lord, and offered our meat-offering — 
under the protection, yet out of reach of the per- 
secution of His Majesty, King James, we are 
safer than on English soil, for here we can wor- 
ship God in the way that seemeth right to our 
consciences. 

To-night, in a little prayer-meeting we had to 
thank God that He has so blessed us through all 
the exercises of the week, Mr. Brewster spoke to 
us from — “ The lives are fallen unto me in 
pleasant places : yea, I have a goodly heritage ; ’’ 
and in reviewing the past year and a half there 
recurred so many occasions of thankfulness to 
every devout heart, that we could but cry one to 
another, “ The Lord has been very gracious and 


317 


faith: whitens iettem book. 


merciful to us. Let us seek to know Him more 
and yet more, love Him better, and strive to walk 
in all His ways and ordinances to do them. 


318 


CHAPTER XXIII. 



Swallow^ Nest, Saturday, Nov. 10. 
AP — rap — came a thundering knock at 
our door last night, rousing us suddenly 
from our slumbers. Thoughts of an In- 
dian attack, or violent illness floated through our 
minds, — but no, it was some startling intelli- 
gence. A ship had been seen putting in at Cape 
Cod Harbor, — it was just one year from the day 
we came in sight of land there — and the friend- 
ly Nausites taking her for a French vessel, and 
supposing she contained our enemies, hastened to 
give us warning, and at midnight their messen- 
gers reached Plymouth. 

All were at once on the alert, and as she was 
seen approaching our coast this morning, the 
Governor commanded the great piece of ord- 
nance to be fired to call in all absent from home, 
and every man and boy stood ready for defence 
with loaded gun. 


But as she drew nearer, we 


319 


FAITH WHITENS EETTEJt BOOK. 


saw from her proud-flying colors that she was an 
English ship, 'and abandoning everything we all 
ran to the shore eager to greet our friends 

It was a small boat named the Fortune, one- 
third the size of the Mayflower, and contained 
thirty-five passengers, mostly men from England, 
few of them being our dear friends, except Mr. 
Cushman and his son, — who are to stay only till 
the ship returns, — Mr. Jonathan Brewster, a 
married brother of Wrestling, and Mr. John 
Winslow — who will add one to our family. 

From them we have been learning all the news 
relative to our friends in Holland, and reading 
their precious letters of love, which seems so 
near to me this moonlit eve, — they in Leyden, I 
in Plymouth, with the weary-wide ocean tossing 
between, — that I feel as if I could almost clasp 
hands with them : as proof of their remembrance 
of little me, I have three more letters to add to 
my letter book, first, of which, I will copy dear 
uncle Robinson’s, because of the honor due to his 
good self. 

My Dear Niece : 

Well-beloved by one according to natural 
bonds, and dearer yet in the perfectness of that 

320 


FAITH WHITENS IE T TER BOOK. 


bond whereby we are made one in the Lord 
Jesus, I am constrained to write yoli, not only as 
a relative sympathising with you in your great 
afflictions, which Paul in his Epistle to the 
Corinthians, having tasted what it was to be 
‘‘ troubled on every side,” speaks of as our 
light afflictions, which are but for a moment,” as- 
suring us that it worketh for us a far more ex- 
ceeding and eternal weight of glory.” 

‘‘Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him,” 
said the holy man of old: and Job, let for a time 
into the hand of Satan, that in the deepest depths 
he might show the Lord’s sustaining grace to 
those sinking beneath the heaviest billows of 
trial “ sinned not, nor charged God foolishly.” 
From his patience take example, and see thou to 
it, my lamb, that thou murmur not at the leading 
of the Good Shepherd, through whatever narrow 
ways or over whatsoever rough paths. 

For if so be that He has mercifully ordered 
that ultimately thy life shall speak His praise, 
over thy complaining mouth will He again and 
again lay the heavy hand of chastisement, saying, 
“ Be still, and know that I am God,” till thou 
shalt have learned the golden grace of silence 
and resignation, — -yea, even of thanksgiving, 
321 


FAITH WHITENS LETTEB BOOK. 


saying, “ It was good for me that I have been 
afflicted.’’ 

I hear that thy heavenly parent has taken 
thine earthly father to Himself, and many tears 
hath my wife, his loving sister, shed over his 
untimely end, and for his children bereft of fath- 
erly care. But know, my child, that the Lord 
discerneth the end from the beginning, and 
through these low paths of sorrow and suffering 
He would fain bring us to the upper heights of 
peace and joy. 

Be constant in prayer, for love and zeal in 
duty. Let the name your glorified mother gave 
you, and that I pronounced over your uncon- 
scious head in the name of the Trinity, when 
you were sealed unto God in baptism, stimulate 
you to a blessed confidence in the eternal love of 
His dear Son unto your soul, to whom be all 
blessing, honor, power and glory ; in the hope of 
whose final coming, 

I am your loving uncle and pastor, 

John Robinson. 

Leyden^ Saturday^ Sept. 8, 1621. 


FAITH WHITE’S TETTER BOOK. 


My Ever Dear Faith : 

Your best friend, Patience, by name, has at 
last taken time out of her now happy days to 
begin to write an answer to your good and long, 
but sad letter. But I can’t write a sad one in 
reply, for I am not a staid, sober-sides as you 
always were, and yet I do believe if I liad gone 
with you on that dreadful journey, I, too, might 
have been subdued and tamed in spirit. 

Sister Fear says I am “ a playful little kitten” 
still, — if I am in my eighteenth year ! But I 
did not think that I should ever laugh again in 
my life after we bade you good bye, and saw you 
sail bravely away, and we moped homeward 
along the dreary canal, which I helped to make 
as ocean-like as possible with my plentiful salt 
tears. Indeed I always cry now when I think of 
it, and if there should be a blot right here, you 
may charge it to the memory of that sad parting! 

I didn’t think Virgil’s ^neid was very inter- 
esting, and sister Fear found me a dull scholar I 
am sure, for instead of having my mind on it, I, 
was always thinking how you were reading to 
dear father, with Mary Chilton and Jasper, as 
you bounded along on old ocean, having forcible 
323 


FAITS WHITENS EETTEB BOOK. 


illustrations of the perils of “ pious 2Eiieas ” by 
land and sea. 

And Jasper died ! I cannot help saying “ Poor 
Jasper to die so young ! ” Neither can I think of 
him as dead, — but he always seemed better than 
other boys, and the Lord wanted him for His. 
And, dear Faith, when I read your letter I was 
afraid that you, too, were so ready, — “ so good 
ready,” as Mary used to say, — that you would 
also be called, and having crossed the wide sea, I 
should find only a green grave whose red roses 
would nod me a sad greeting! Oh, Faith, you 
must not die I 

From the description you all give, I think you 
live in strange houses, and it makes me laugh to 
think of your reading this by the light coming in 
through oiled paper 1 It seems to me like “ play- 
ing live and keep house ” as we used to do. 
Have you forgotten how you always wanted to be 
the grandmother, and wear spectacles, and lean 
on a cane ? And do you remember how I never 
could keep from laughing and spoiling it all, 
when you spoke of your rheumatism in the most 
doleful tones, and poor Mary’s eyes — not blind 
then — would grow so large, and fill with tears 
of wonder at my liard heartedness, and your 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


affliction ? How I love to recall those days — do 
you ? 

My magpie, you would not know where to 
find your home in which we used to have “ such 
nice, good times,” to quote Mary again. I al- 
ways cried when passing it, just to think of the 
gay chatterings we had carried on in that little 
nookery of yours ; but some benevolent body — 
to save my eyes, I suppose — tore it all away, 
and the whole square is being builded up with 
shops. Now please don’t bend your head close 
down over the sheet, — as you were wont to do 
over some of the books we used to read togeth- 
er, — and drop a few quiet tears on this letter of 
mine, blotting it even more than now, for I 
hope — 0, so much do I hope ! — that before 
many more years fly over my thoughtless head, 
we shall renew our twitterings in some little 
martin-box of a house, thatched with hay. How 
we will talk then ! 

The white kitten long since went to parts un- 
known, but Pompey still lives, and reflects great 
credit on him for whom he was named — “ The 
noblest Roman of them all.” I rather think 
that, as usual, I am mistaken in applying that 
quotation to tlic original Pompey, but however 


FAITH WHITENS TETTER BOOK. 


that may be, your old favorite is a devoted friend, 
— having adopted me from the very first, and 
preferring that I should feed him ; and so enjoy- 
ing my society that he follows me everywhere. 
But he has not forgotten our darling Mary, — 
Eose-Mary whom the Lord transplanted — for 
whenever I go to her grave, bright with the beau- 
tiful flowers nestling in the green grass, he 
whines and looks at me so beseechingly. 

You want to know what I have been doing, I 
suppose. Doing is such a hard word, but I have 
so short a story of deeds that it will take little 
time to tell it. I am startled almost every day 
when I think how many things there are that I 
have to learn to do, of some one of which sister 
Fear often says to me, “ Why, when I was as old 
as you, I could do that perfectly ! ” But this is 
not telling my little tale, which commences with 
my Latin reading. I finished the ^neid, and 
read all the Georgies, — so I am in advance of 
you there, — and have read considerable Frencln 

I have embroidered some, — made a stomacher 
for Fear, that is really beautiful, — “As well as I 
could have done at your age ! ” she said, and to 
prove how nice it is, never wears it, keeping it, I 
guess, till she shall go to Pl^Tuouth, where it will 
326 


l^AITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


no doubt excite the admiration of the squaws, — 
as she says a new dress I have will — a scarlet 
stuff, short gown — but I am wearing mine out 
here. Sometimes sister Fear thinks it is almost 
too bright, but I tell her it is not as brilliant as 
many of the birds and flowers, away off in the 
forests where no one but God and the angels see 
them — so He must love to look on bright and 
beautiful things. 

But to return to my “ doings.” I have finished 
my sampler begun so long ago, over which many 
tears of despair have dropped. I suppose yours 
is in statu quo — I am determined to use a little 
Latin ! — and when I go to New England I will 
fly into SwalloAv’s Nest, and teach you several 
new stitches. I finished mine with a border, and 
in the unfilled corner put my name, with the 
dates of the beginning and completion thereof, 
and my verse,” — “She maketh herself cover- 
ings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and pur- 
ple,” and every word of it is in a different stitch 
or color. 

I have written you a long, foolish letter, be- 
cause it is just like myself to do so, and I knew 
Jonathan would tell you all about us and every- 
body, — especially how disappointed we were not 

S27 


FAITH WHITE’S EETTEIi BOOK. 


to go this time, but hope that Mr. Robinson’s 
family and the rest of ours will sail in the next 
ship ; — and I mentioned these little things that 
I knew he would forget, because I was so thank- 
ful to you for telling me about your plants, the 
goats, chickens, and things of that kind. 

You must cheer up my drooping violet, and 
like the sweet May flowers you sent me — many 
thanks for them — raise your head through the 
snow of your winter’s sorrow, and bloom and 
smile. And Faith, if it was a dreary winter to 
you, it was to us also, hearing nothing from you 
for so many months. 0 what dreams I had of 
a ship sucked in a great, boiling whirlpool, — of 
father, mother, brother, you, all of our loved 
ones going down, down, among the tangled sea- 
weed, and dreadful sea-monsters, — from which 
I would wake with a shriek only to sleep again 
and repeat it ! 

If you, midst all the sickness and death, lost 
your faith sometime, I am sure I displayed very 
little of the grace implied in my name, and did 
not possess my soul in patience, but the merciful 
Father rebuked my complaining distrust, and 
sent me far better tidings than we had dared to 


328 


FAITH WHITENS LETIEE BOOK. 


hope, — for it was as if the sea had given up its 
dead before the time. 

You must reply to this with just such a long 
letter as before, and never cease to love, and 
pray for 

Your True Friend, 

Patience Brewster. 

Leyden^ Thursday^ Sept. 9, 1621. 

Miss Faith White : 

My Beloved Little Sister — Father and mother 
both write that since you were orphaned they 
claim you as their daughter, and you have great- 
ly recompensed their loss of Patience, so, al- 
though you did not ask me to write, I will add a 
few words and send them with her letter, which 
she brought me to read, as I see the poor child 
has not done herself half justice. 

We thought she never would smile again after 
we came back to our dreary home, and as 
months went on, and the only report from you 
was a continuous story of mishaps, she grew 
more melancholy. Then came the long, long 
silence, and we could not conceive why the 
Mayflower did not return, except that she had 
foundered with all on board. It was a winter to 


329 


FAITH WHITENS LETTEB BOOK. 


try one’s faith in the All-Faithful, and constantly 
we bore your case in prayer to the mercy-seat ; 
but so did the sickening uncertainty wear on 
Patience, tliat we much feared the spring would 
trickle its sunshine on her grave. 

But when the Mayflower came at last, bringing 
its messages from loved ones — our own all 
spared, while many others had lost their nearest 
and dearest, yet so much better than we had 
feared, it was as a new lease of life to her. All 
the pent-up, long-repressed happiness of her 
sunny nature gushed forth in an overflow of love 
and gratitude, and now,’ perfectly well again, she 
goes round singing like an English lark. 

She has not told you — but she said I might — 
that Mr. Thomas Prince, who will sail in the 
Fortune, is a dear friend of hers, and will one 
day claim her as his, — so he must be a good 
friend of yours, my little sister Faith, for her sake. 

Will you accept from the hands of your 
adopted sister, a little volume of Herbert’s 
Hymns, of which I know . you are fond, and as 
you read, think once in a while of 
Your Friend, 

Fear Brewster. 

Leijden.^ Friday^ Sept. 7, 1621. 

330 


FAITS WHITENS EE ITER BOOK. 


My Dear Patience : 

Mr. Winslow just came in saying it was settled 
that the Fortune was to sail to-morrow, as she 
was now fully freighted. It startled me to re- 
member that she had been anchored in the Bay, 
more than four weeks, and I had not yet replied 
to your letter : and her going away seems like 
putting you a great distance from me — like a 
new parting with your dear self for a long, sad 
separation, — and yet it is but a short letter I 
can write, for my spare moments are very 
limited. 

The men have been exceedingly busy gather- 
ing freight for the Fortune, working early, late, 
and earnestly, and I have had my share to do in 
our not small family — numbering ten, for all 
the new-comers were divided among the nine 
families of the colony. But we are very happy, 
and I do not believe there is a city in the world 
that holds more contented hearts than beat 
under the roofs of this little town of Plymouth, 
containing eleven houses, and eighty-seven souls. 

Together with our long-desired Patent, came a 
letter from Mr. Weston, very severe in its up- 
braiding, because the Mayflower carried home so 
little freight, — although it was the best our men 
381 


FAITH WHITENS FETTER BOOK, 


could possibly do, and had some done less, they 
might not have died. In proof of the injustice 
of the rebuke, Mr. Winslow was just reading the 
Fortune’s bill of lading, — clapboards, otter and 
beaver-skins, — witli great gratification, stating 
that it amounted to five hundred pounds; all 
this as the proceeds of the summer’s .labor of 
twenty men, shows that we have not been idle, 
and we hope it will fully satisfy Mr. Weston. 

But busy as we have been, we have enjoyed 
many pleasures, gathering flowers, berries and 
nuts, or going fishing, and to get clams and 
lobsters ; and later in running up and down the 
cris}>frosted hills. We have also had another 
wedding besides mother’s, — I wish you had been 
here on that first great occasion : this time it was 
John Alden to Priscilla Mulbins, who has thus 
fulfilled her laughing prediction when she made 
mother’s bridal-wreath, that she would wear the 
next one. But Priscilla’s was only leaves from 
my geranium, — that finally grew from the 
roots — with a few rose-buds. 

It was quite a disappointment to Captain Stan- 
dish, who very much admired Priscilla’s patience 
and readiness about the beds of the sick and 
dying fast winter, when only seven were able to 


FAITH WHITE'S FETTER ROOK. 


tend tlie sick. Yet the brave soldier could not 
summon courage to tell her of his love, and 
asked John Alden to do it for him. But when 
John went to the girl he loved himself, and plead 
the Captain’s cause, and after her quick refusal, 
urged his many noble qualities, she asked in 
reply — Why don’t you speak for yourself, 
John?” 

So his tongue was loosed in his own behalf, 
and he won the bride, but the Captain, honorable 
in love as in war, after the first passion of being 
thus refused and supplanted had passed, took his 
first defeat quite calmly, sending her as a bridal- 
gift a brooch with a pearl in the center, and 
none seemed to enjoy the wedding gaiety more 
than he. 

John Howland will soon be married to Eliza- 
beth Tilly, — a good man with a good wife, 
though she is so very young, only sixteen. Per- 
haps no one else will remember to write you that 
Governor Carver formally adopted her, after the 
death of all her friends, and she took a daugh- 
ter’s care of her new parents in their last illness ; 
and as was most suitable, all his property was 
divided between her and Pichard Moore. 

Peregrine celebrated his birth-day by taking 
333 


FAITH WHITENS ZFTTEIt BOOK. 


his first walk across the floor, and cutting a 
tooth. He is such a darling child — so well and 
strong. I thought of him because I heard his 
Toice calling me — and now it is as near a cry as 
he ever gets, so I must go, and with my many 
evening duties,’ and morning cares, I much fear 
this letter will never be longer than now. 

Let me jus add, that I very much like your 
friend, Mr. Thomas Prince, and with love to 
sister Fear, and thanks for her kind letter and 
gift, think of me, all the years that may roll 
between us, as ever loving, and praying for you, 
who, I fain believe, love in return. 

Your own friend. 

Faith. 

Plymouth^ Neiv England^ Dec, 12, 1620. 

Svjallovys Nest, Friday, January 18, 1622. 

The Fortune sailed December thirteenth, tak- 
ing from us Mr. Cushman and liis son whose visit 
we so much enjoyed ; li)ut his unceasing labors in 
England and Holland are invaluable to our in- 
fant colony, so we were obliged to be content 
with his sliort stay. 

As the Fortune brought no provisions, we were 
compelled to give her of our supplies for tlie 
334 


FAITM rrHITE^S FETTER BOOK, 


return voyage, and it was soon found that even 
if we were put on half-allowance of bread, our 
grain, — we raised twenty-six bushels of corn 
and a little barley — will last us but six months. 
The men that came in the Fortune were also 
generally destitute of money, and clothing, adding 
nothing but stout hands to our company, — a 
much needed addition, — but all are not willing 
hands, as the Governor found on Christmas day. 
Several objected to work on that day, saying it 
was contrary to their religious belief, and the 
Governor felt that it would be wrong to compel 
them to labor against their conscience ; but find- 
ing them in the street soon after, playing games, 
he took their bats and balls from them, telling 
them it was against his conscience, and the 
teachings of Paul, that they should play while 
others were at work for their benefit, and sent 
them home. 

We have had another alarm from the Indians, 
that may result in serious trouble. Canonicus, 
the haughty Chief of the Narragansetts, five 
thousand warriors strong, having heard of our 
weakness, and angry that we had made peace 
with Massasoit, sent a messenger to Governor 
Bradford, bringing a bundle of arrows tied with 
335 


jrAI±H WHITE’S ZETTEB BOOK. 


a rattlesnake’s skin. Squaiito was absent, and 
the Governor did not know what to make of so 
dubious a present ; questioning the messenger, 
he found his errand was hostile, but he sent him 
away unharmed, bidding him tell Canonicus that 
he feared neither him nor his threats. But 
when Squanto came and said it was a declaration 
of war, the Governor at once assembled the men 
to consult as to the best means of replying to the 
challenge. 

“ Hurl it back in his teeth ! ” cried Captain 
Standish in a voice of thunder, as coming in 
from a hunt during the meeting, he first heard 
of the insult. “ Stuff it with powder and bul- 
lets, and let the audacious red-skins know that 
we have no fear of twice five thousand villainous 
braves, with their contemptible bows and ar- 
rows 1 ” 

The advice seemed good, and was promptly 
carried out, and it is hoped that it will quell 
them, but as an additional protection, we have 
been building a stockade of thick planks, en- 
'‘closing all the houses and the Fort, with gates at 
each end that are shut by night ; and Captain 
Standish daily drills all the men in four squad- 
rons. that we may be prepared for war, if that is 


FAJlTU wiiite*s letter book. 


the next affliction with which God sees it need- 
ful to try the faith of our little band. 

Swallow^s Nest^ Saturday^ May 11, 1622. 

How the months have flown by since last I 
wrote, — not seeming swift as they passed day by 
day with grim hunger staring us in the face, but 
like the painful, halting flight of a bird with a 
broken wing. 

It was January then — and now May smiles on 
us' with flowers and sunshine ; but the flowers 
seem to lack the brightness, and the sunlight the 
genial warmth of a year ago, when mother was 
married, and we ate of the plentiful wedding-feast 
and were thankful, — a' dinner, the very thought 
of which makes me almost too hungry to write. 

It is hard not to have enough to eat ! It was 
very sad to see Oceanus Hopkins, who had sur- 
vived the storms of sea and the winter’s sickness, 
dying inch by inch because we had none of the 
right kind of food to give him ! I have often sat 
down to write, and laid aside my letter-book to 
tell a story to poor Peregrine to make him forget 
his cry for bread. Besides, it seemed selfish in 
me to spend my time in writing, when I thought 
by any extra labor, and skill of preparation, I 
337 


FAITS WaiT£>S LBTTEJt BOOK. 

might make our small allowance of meal go 
further, so that the hard-toiling men would not 
stagger at their heavy work for want of food. 

Yet the hand of the Lord has often shown it- 
self in a remarkable manner ; for sometimes 
when we had actually nothing at noon, in some 
way, before night, a full supply has been sent us, 
as providential as was the coming of Elijah to 
the starving widow of Sarepta, whose barrel of 
meal, and cruse of oil, failed not in the three 
years and a half of famine. 

In another instance has Jehovah’s arm been 
signally bared in our behalf, and though it was 
so long since, it seems like a dream, I cannot 
refrain from recording it. Canonicus received 
the answer to his insulting challenge with the ut- 
most terror, refusing to touch ’ it or let it stay in 
his hut, and no one being fearless enough to 
bring it back to us, it was handed from tribe to 
tribe, invested with a new and mysterious horror 
at each removal, till finally a friendly Indian re- 
turned it to the Governor with expressions of 
fear and regret, and to-day the Chief of the Nar- 
ragansetts, if not a friend, is a subdued and 
panic-stricken enemy. 


338 


CHAPTER XXIY. 



SivaUow^s Nest, Friday, July 13, 1622. 
'HE summer is creeping by in beauty and 
glory, but not with the abundance of 
last year, and the health of many has 
been seriously injured by actual want : but He 
who sent this for our good, sent also partial re- 
lief in his own good time, for soon after my last 
writing, seven passengers sent by Mr. Weston 
came to us in a shallop from a fishing-boat, the 
Sparrow, under Captain Jones, and they brought 
with them a very kindly letter from Captain 
Huddleston on another fishing vessel, — I pray 
daily for that good Captain — Mr. Winslow went 
to him in a boat, and obtained enough bread to 
give each person a quarter of a pound daily till 
harvest. 

Poor Peregrine, standing by with hungry eyes, 
clutches at the stale ship-bread as if he were 
339 


FAITH WHITF^S LETTER ROOK. 


starving, and I have so far been giving the dear 
child nearly all mine, yet even that does not 
seem to satisfy his ravenous appetite. At the 
time Mr. Winslow came we were actually near 
perishing. Our nets were not strong enough to 
hold the multitudes of bass and other fish in the 
bay, — we had no tackling to take the plentiful 
cod, and had it not been for the clams and 
muscles, and little alewives, we must have 
starved, even with such abundance at hand. 

Yet Mr. Brewster in his strong faith has never 
failed to thank God “ that He has permitted us 
to suck of the abundance of the seas, and of the 
treasures hid in the land : ” and our growing 
hunger has not failed to remind us of One, one 
Man of sorrows, without food forty days and 
forty nights, beset by the tempter, that our soul’s 
craving might be satisfied with that eternal 
bread, eating of which we hunger never again, 
till we cry — ‘‘ Lord, evermore give us this 
bread.” 

Our growing crop promises but poorly, for the 
men were too weak to tend it properly, and when 
it was in the milk, — not nearly grown, but very 
delicious to eat when roasted, — the men of a 
colony settled not far from us took a great deal 
340 


FAITS WHITENS EETTEM BOOK. 


of it. Thifi^company was sent out by Mr. Wes- 
ton, — who has left the Merchant Adventurer 
under command of his brother. We were warn- 
ed against them as bad men, but for their mas- 
ter’s sake we treated them with all possible 
hospitality, and they so repaid it, that unless 
providentially supplied, we may look forward to 
another winter of pinching want, worse than the 
last. 

The Indians also, knowing our weakened state, 
boast of their power to cut us off. Even our old 
ally Massasoit keeps aloof, and treats us coldly, 
now we can feast him no more. 

It is a dreary out look we have into the future, 
— but doing all we can, and trusting for the 
rest, a Fort has been built on Fort Hill where 
the pieces were formerly planted. It is a large 
square house, with flat roof supported by strong 
timbers, and on this the cannon are planted : the 
lower part we use for a meeting-house, and we 
are joyful in God’s house of prayer, even though 
it is so necessary to be constantly on our guard, 
that on Sabbath morn, at tap of drum, the men 
all assemble before Captain Standish’s house, 
each carrying his gun, and marching three 
abreast, ascend the hill. They sit with their 

S41 


FAITU WHITF^S LETT Fit BOOK. 


guns beside them in clmrcli, while turns two 
or three stand outside as sentinels, that we be 
not surprised. 

Swallow^s Nest, Tuesday, Nov. 12, 1622. 

Poor Squanto is dead, and blundering as 
he was, — often getting us into trouble, — and 
many mistakes as he made through vanity be- 
cause of our dependence on him, we feel that we 
have lost a true friend. 

About a week ago he went with Governor 
Bradford to Cape Cod to get corn, and therq 
disease found him. Faithfully did the Governor 
nurse him, but so violently ill was he, that on 
the second day, — November ninth, three times a 
marked day in our calendar, — after making 
some bequests of his little trinkets to various 
friends in Plymouth, he bade the Governor good- 
bye, begging him “ to pray that he might go to 
the Englishman’s God in heaven.” And as we 
lay our faithful friend under the sod, we can but 
hope that he was taught of the Englishman’s 
God, and gathered out of the darkness of this 
life to the light of heaven ; that to the last man 
of his tribe, — saved by a better providence from 
the bosom of pestilence, — it was given to con- 
342 


FAITH WHITENS lETTER BOOK. 

quer Death single-handed, and that he has gone 
to Him who three days slept in death that we 
might wake eternally. 

But in Hobbammock, one of Massasoit’s chief 
captain’s, who has been sometime with us, we 
have both a prudent and zealous man to be our 
“ mouth piece,” and much do we need such an 
one, for the reckless band of colonists at Wes- 
sagussett — after so injuring our crop of corn 
that had not Captain Jones stopped on his way 
to Virginia, leaving us knives and beads to trade 
with the Indians, we should be facing greedy 
winter empty-handed, — have so conducted them- 
selves that the exasperated savages hate them 
bitterly, and only by the most sagacious manage- 
ment can an outbreak be prevented, in which 
we should doubtless be involved. 

What then ? But Ave cannot doubt God’s final 
good designs for us, as with thankfulness we re- 
member the past, thickset with mercies ; especial- 
ly for His grace that in all our misery and want, 
we have learned but to love each other the more, 
and drawing closer to our fellow-companions in 
suffering, have in that very action drawn nearer 
to Him, who smites us in love — a union well 
worth all our sorrows. 


343 


JF^ITS: WHITENS EETTEB BOOK, 


Swallow^ s Nest^ Friday^ Fehuary 21, 1623. 

Two years ago to-day my father received his 
baptism of immortality. Two years, — counted 
by that warm, bright summer of plenty, and 
then our winter of discontent, with its blinding 
snows and scant meals ; followed by a summer of 
hunger and dread, and that, by another winter — 
almost gone now — of cold, and griping want, 
each day growing more bitter and oppressive. 

My letter book has in it few records since the 
Fortune sailed away, — but I could not bear to 
sit down and think or write, with the memory of 
haggard, wan faces, — childish faces that should 
be plump and rosy, — lifting sunken eyes im- 
ploringly to mine, and hear their weak voices cry 
for bread. It is dreadful beyond expression to 
see men at work, trembling from actual, gnaw- 
ing hunger ! It has been particularly bitter to 
me to see my loved mother crying over her baby 
boy, — several months old now, though it seems 
years since he came among us, — who seems all 
the time so famished and perishing. 

Can it be, we ask ourselves, that God is rebuk- 
ing our rashness in coming to this savage coast, 
expecting Him to work miracles in our behalf? 
For the weak faith of many fails oftentimes, 
344 


FAITir WHITENS ZETTEB BOOK. 


doubting even that Father whose love is affirmed 
to be greater than any earthly father’s love for 
his son, to whom, if he ask for bread He will not 
give a stone. As a general thing, my life, like 
all others here, has resolved itself into this one 
oppressive question — “ What shall we eat, and 
where withal shall we be clothed ? ” for we are 
but a shabby set in dress by this time : and I 
have found it very hard to obey tlie injunction, — 
that I have so often read as a reproof, to my 
anxious self that my Bible falls open at it, — 
“ Take therefore no thought for the morrow.” 

But Mr. Weston’s shiftless men have fared 
much worse than we, who, although they boasted 
that they would not be hindered by feeble women 
and weak children, have been so straitened as to 
sell their clothing and bedding to the Indians, 
cut their wood and carry water for them like 
servants for a little corn, while several have ae- 
rially perished from cold and hunger. 

At one time they resolved to attack the sav- 
ages, and take their corn by force, but having 
asked the Governor’s advice, after showing 
them the sin of so doing, and telling them 
they had better resources than we, — as tliey 
have an abundance of oysters in addition to our 
345 


FAITH WHITF^S IFTTFB BOOH. 


diet of ground-nuts, clams, and muscles, — he 
said that as the Indians had but little corn it 
would soon be spent, and then they would have 
to hunt for sustenance exposed to the incensed 
savages. 

For a wonder they followed his good advice, 
though they might not have done so, had it not 
been clinched with a solemn promise tliat wlien 
King James sent an officer liere to look into the 
affairs of the colonies, if they put their iniqui- 
tous plan into execution, he would recommend 
them to him as worthy of the gallows, — so tliey 
are still in a half-starved condition like ourselves. 

Swallow^ s Nest, Thursday, April 23, 1G23. 

‘‘ With one grand campaign the Second Indian 
War is over ! ’’ said Captahi Standisli witli a grim 
smile as he set the bloody iioad of Wituwamat 
upon the Fort, for a terror to evil doers, but 
haunting me with its ghastly fearfuhiess, wlicji- 
ever I am tired, nervous or sick, as I Iiavc been 
so much of late. 

We liave all liad a narrow escape from massa- 
cre by the Indiaiis, staggering in our ignorance 
and liungry weakness on tlie brink of destruc- 
tion, — but the hand of the Lord kept us. Tlie 
346 


JFAITH WHITE’S TETTER BOOK. 

Massachusetts and Paomet Indians, outraged by 
the lawless conduct of Mr. Weston’s men, en- 
tered into a conspiracy against all the English. 
Wituwamat, a desperate Massachusetts Chief, re- 
solved first to kill Captain Standish, — of whom 
they stand most in awe. While he was with 
them buying corn, with only two or three other 
men, Wituwamat tried to persuade him to send 
for the rest of the men to come up from the boat, 
and failing in this scheme, an Indian, on pretence 
of taking them grain as a present, went to the 
shallop and spent the night, intending to murder 
the Captain in his sleep ; but warned of God, as 
we believe, he could not sleep, but walked the 
boat all night ; and when tlie disappointed assas- 
sin urged him to stop next day at his village for - 
corn, and he would have done so, a contrary wind 
prevented him, and the treacherous savage came 
here with him. 

During the absence of Captain Stajidish, hav- 
ing heard that Massasoit was very ill, Mr. Wins- 
low, with a gentleman from London, Master John 
Hampden, who spent the winter with us, went to 
see the poor king, taking Hobbammock as a 
guide, who, as they journeyed, bewailed the fate 
of Massasoit in most touching lamentations, — for 


347 


FAITS WHITE’S LETTER BOOK. 


the Indians, hoping to keep them from going 
farther had told them he was dead. But Mr. 
Winslow, wishing to make peace with the crafty 
Conbatant, his successor, went on, and found 
Massasoit still living, but very low and perfectly 
blind, with a crowd of medicine-men around 
making a most distracting noise. 

Art thou Winslow ? ” cried the apparently 
dying king, stretching out his hand. “ 0 Wins- 
low, I shall never see thee again.’’ 

Mr. Winslow at once took charge of his case, 
nursing him till he was able to sif up. His 
gratitude knew no bounds, and remembering all 
our former kindness and friendliness, he treated 
them with the utmost respect, and taking Hob- 
bammock aside told him the plot against us, 
which during his sickness they had vainly urged 
him to join, and he repeated it to Mr. Winslow 
on their way home. 

No time was to be lost. Captain Standish had 
just come in with the Indian, who was urging 
him to return to Paomet for corn the first fair 
wind. He was at once sent home, the plot un- 
folded, and in the council assembled on the year- 
ly court-day, March twenty-third, it was decided 
that on pretence of purchasing corn, Captain 

318 


FAITH WHITE’S LETTER BOOK. 


Standish should go with a body of picked men, 
and seize or punish the ringleaders. 

Having chosen and equipped eight men on 
whom he could rely, he was ready to start, when 
a messenger came from Wessagassett to tell us 
of their perishing condition, and he at once went 
to them, and found them so reduced that the 
Indians could easily have murdered all. 

While telling them of the arranged massacre, 
several of the Indian leaders came in, pretending 
to have furs to sell, and the fierce flash of Cap- 
tain Standish’s eyes told them their designs were 
known. Several times during the day they came 
near, — one even sending word by Hobbammock 
that they knew the little Captain had come to 
kill them, but they did not fear : and frequently 
they brandished their sharp knives before the 
faces of our men, with insulting gestures, and 
contemptuous speeches. 

Wituwamat especially boasted of his knife. On 
the end of the handle was a woman’s face. ‘‘ I 
have another at home,” he said, “ with which I 
have killed both English and French, and by 
and by they shall marry ! ” adding, as he caressed 
the keen, glittering blade, “ By and by it shall 
eat, but not speak.” 

349 


FAITH WHITE’S EETTEB BOOK. 


Pecksuat, a tall, strong Indian, mocked the 
Captain for his small size, and threatened him, 
which he bore patiently biding his time. But on 
the next day, four of the worst being in the 
room, having given the signal to his men, he 
seized the braggart Pecksuat, and killed him 
with the knife hanging from a chain round his 
neck, that he had sharpened on both edges with 
almost a needle’s fineness at the point. After 
despatching them they followed up the rest, and 
killing several drove the others to a swamp. 

Captain Standish gave all the corn he could 
spare to the terrified colonists at Wassagussett, 
who hastily took boat and sailed away, much in 
debt to us. But when the Captain came home 
bringing Wituwamat’s head, — such a horrible 
sight ! — and the fierce, blood-thirsty looking 
weapons of those that fell, we felt that under any 
circumstances we can rejoice over the departure 
of those who embroiled us in this successful but 
bad war. 

Swallow^ s Nest, Wednesday, May 14, 1623. 

If last May — as I find by turning back but a 
few leaves — I wrote under the presence of phy- 
sical want, sore-sick at soul, and haunted by 

• 350 


FAITH WHITF*S IFTIER BOOK. 


hunger-wasted faces, and sunken eyes, I have 
even worse to write of now, nor have I the spirit 
or strength to bear it as then — somehow all this 
has crushed me. 

For three months we have been without a par- 
ticle of grain to eat, sometimes all having to go 
down to the shore and dig shell-fish, or to the 
woods for roots and nuts, relieved now and then 
by an occasional deer, or a small boat-load of 
fish. Thus do we drag out the weary days, and 
long, long nights, — trying not to complain, and 
praying “ Give us this day our daily bread,” with 
a fervor that once, when enjoying life’s common 
blessings, seemed impossible. 

The sharp agony of that dreary winter of 
death, was nothing to the slow torture of this 
spring. It is comparatively easy to look in a 
dying face, full of the soul’s exceeding bliss, and 
think that after a brief struggle there shall come 
a sweet, eternal release. 

But 0 the agony of looking into these swollen, 
watery-skinned faces, — these hunger-filled, im- 
ploring eyes, and think it may last for months 
yet ! It is very trying to have the children -beg 
piteously for bread, — to see Mary Allerton take 
Peregrine, and kneeling down pray in unques- 
351 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


tioiiing faith — ‘‘ 0, Father God, please send us 
something to eat ! ” and wondering that it delays 
so long, take him and the other children out, and 
seating them on th^ green grass say, “Let’s play 
that Jesus knows we are hungry, and he’s going 
to come with some loaves Of bread and feed us,” 
and toll them in her childish way of Christ’s 
feeding the multitudes. 

It is very bitter to look forward for days to a 
returning boat or hunting party, comforting the 
impatient children through each sad to-day with 
a hope of the better morrow, and have the ex- 
pected men come in empty-handed ! 

0 my Cariad, whom I have not called upon for 
so long, lest in my weakness I should have an 
overweening desire to go from this desolation to 
the fulness of the Father’s house, in my failing 
strength I could but be glad this morning, when, 
after a night of tossing unrest, troubled by fever- 
ish dreams of loaded tables, round which our 
starving children clustered, but were unable to 
reach the food, I heard uncle Samuel tell 
mother he feared I would never live to see 
another winter. 

Is it wrong to be very glad at the Lord’s will, 
— if it be His will to take me, — even when 
352 


fajitb: wsite^s eetter book. 

mother’s tears fell fast over me, and Peregrine 
sobs aloud because she is crying ? 

I cannot tell — I scarcely dare think of that — 
only pray, as we all do earnestly, for relief, and 
that the expected ships may come with supplies 
and friends, — and I do pray to live till Patience 
comes. 

Swalloio’s Nest, Wednesday, July 24, 1623. 

‘‘ The Lord is merciful and gracious ; slow to 
anger, and plenteous in mercy. He will not 
always chide ; neither will He keep His anger 
forever.” 

With trembling hand I write this as my testi- 
mony in behalf of Him who hath led us as a 
flock, — one of my last letters, for although I 
liave been and am much better than in early 
May, — so that mother hopes, and Paul rejoices 
over me, — yet I know I shall write few letters 
more. 

In the destitution of April it was resolved, 
that to stimulate all to their utmost endeavors to 
secure a good crop, the land should be divided, 
and every family plant corn for themselves, and 
by this means a much larger amount was planted 
than in either season before; even the women 


353 


FAITS WHITE’S ZETTEB BOOK. 

and children working diligently in the field, or 
carrying baskets filled with alewives, that were 
caught in immense quantities in a trellis-work in 
the river, to put in the hills, and with a good 
hope in the future — that seemed far off to our 
eager appetites — we hungered, prayed, and 
waited. 

But in the middle of May began a terrible 
drought, with not a drop of rain for more than 
six weeks. The early-planted corn put out little 
blighted ears ; the latter withered in blade and 
stalk, and hung drooping as if dead, while the 
bean-vines looked as though scorched by fire. 

Each morning, after coughing the fore part of 
the night, as I woke late from a little sleep, I 
saw . the red sun. glaring down from the brazen 
sky like a globe of fire ; and all night the moon 
shone as a ball of blood against the dark blue of 
the upper deep. 

Day after day, week after week, we prayed in 
our closets — at the family altar — and in our 
house of prayer for relief, each looking in his 
own heart for the cause of this judgment, — and 
still the heavens were as brass, and God mocked 
our prayers for rain with scorching sunshine. 

Ill addition to this we had heard more than 


304 


FAITS WHITE’S EETTEE BOOH. 


two months previous that a ship was only three 
hundred leagues otF the coast, — a ship laden 
with supplies, and more precious still, our friends 
— Patience among them — and yet she came not. 
Instead, after a heavy storm there drifted to the 
shore fragments of a wreck, and we sat in deep- 
est grief, almost certain that this last, best earth- 
ly hope had been taken from us. 

But in our deep distress, mindful how God in 
time past had listened to the strong crying of a 
united people, it was resolved to humble our- 
selves before the Lord in a day of fasting and 
prayer, and Thursday, July eighteenth, was set 
apart for that purpose. It was a time of thick 
darkness, and we kept the Fast-Day solemnly to 
the Lord, the wdiole time from eight in the morn- 
ing till four or five in the afternoon, being spent 
in confession and supplication, each crying might- 
ily, and wrestling with the Angel of the Cove- 
nant, saying as Jacob, “ I will not let Thee go, 
except Thou bless me.’’ 

Mr. Winslow and Wrestling carried me up to 
the meeting-house, and after staying two hours I 
came back — not sorrowing because I should 
tread the narrow, well-worn path no more. 

After I had rested, Hobbaramock came to the 
355 


FAITH WHITE’S lETTEE BOOK. 


door, very curious to know why we kept this day 
the same as the Sabbath, and even more strictly. 
My explanation seemed to make a great impres- 
sion on his mind, and he was still more surprised 
at the faithfulness, and power of the English- 
man’s God, for before the meeting was over, thick 
clouds began to hurry up the sky, and shut out 
the cruel, burning sun, and ere morning they 
dropped on the parched land in gentle showers, 
which came so quickly, and lasted so long that 
everything was revived, and with hearts made 
thankful, and softened by the dew of God’s 
grace, we hope for a fruitful harvest. 

That same memorable Fast-Day night. Captain 
Standish, long absent, came in with a boat-load 
of provisions, — better yet, bringing word that 
two treasure-filled ships were on their way, and 
would soon be here, so it was decided to keep a 
day of Thanksgiving to our prayer-hearing, and 
prayer-answering God : and in the hope that 
those we love will be here to rejoice with us in 
the Lord, it is set on Thursday, August first. 

A Thanksgiving Day ! Who should give 
thanks if not we — if not I, who expect soon to 
look upon my dear friend. Patience, — and soon 
to look upon One dearer yet ? 

356 


FAITH WHITENS TETTER BOOK. 


Hobbammock just came in to show me a mam- 
moth eagle he had shot, and as I looked at it he 
told me how the old eagle taught its young to 
fly, by taking from them one by one the j^ieces 
of the nest : desperately do they clutch at every 
last particle, but when all is gone and they 
shiver on the bare ledge, she shoves them rudely 
off, and as with shrieks of fear they instinctively 
stretch and try their wings, she floats around, 
sustaining and cheering, till soon they swim 
away in ether to dizzy heights. 

I saw myself in the young eagle, sheltered 
under God’s broad wings of love till it came my 
time to fly. Clinging still to things of time and 
sense. He took my treasures on earth to heaven, 
— brother, sister, father, and thee, my Cariad, 
snatching comforts too, and little joys. Hugging 
desperately the beggarly elements of the world, 
He took peace and ease from me, sent terror from 
the Indians, and famine ; drouth, and fear for the 
loss of friends ; now He takes my health and life, 
and I seem to be toppling over into the abyss of 
death, not un sustained, but upborne by the invis- 
ible but strong wings of the Heavenly Dove. 

Many thanks to thee, Hobbammock, for the 
lesson. May the God in whom you have ex- 
357 


faith: whitf^s iettfr book. 


pressed your belief grant you such pardoning 
grace, that in the dying hour your soul may 
mount as on eagle’s wings. 

358 




CHAPTER XXV. 


Swallow^ s Nesty Friday^ Ang, 16, 1623. 



Y Cariad : — Sitting here this bright 
summer day, propped up in the old 
easy-chair in which Mrs. Winslow 


used to sit, I find it far easier to look forward, as 
John from rocky Patinos, to the glories of the 
New Jerusalem, than in this “last time’^ to 
glance backward, and like Mr. Martin, “ settle 
my accounts before I die.” 

I could but be b^ter for about two weeks ago, 
just in time to keep our Thanksgiving Day with 
us, came the Ann and Little James, bringing 
many passengers. Patience came — Fear was 
with her, and Mr. Jonathan Brewster’s family. 
Aunt Bridget and little Samuel gladdened uncle 
Fuller’s heart ; while Governor Bradford clasped 
in his arms his orphan boy, asking, “ Where’s my 
mother, my mother ? and sobbed aloud. 


JF^ITM WHITENS ZETTER BOOK. 


A Mrs. Soiitliwortli came also, a widowed sister 
of uncle Samuel’s second wife, — an early love 
of Governor Bradford’s when he was a mere boy, 
it is said, — and little John Bradford calls her 
mother now. 

Fear Brewster has told me as a secret, that she 
has promised to give a mother’s care and love to 
the little Allertons : and Captain Standish in his 
own peculiar, resolute way has secured a wife. 

Not trusting to some one else this time, he 
went down to the shore as the passengers were 
being landed, and having espied one he deemed 
suitable, he appeared and asked her name. On 
being told, “ Barbara,” said he, ‘‘ I want a wife. 
You suit me. Will you marry Captain Standish, 
to-morrow ? ” and Barbara did not refuse, so 
they were married on Thanksgiving Day. 

Many other families came#to their husbands 
and fathers here : all the sad, heavy eyes sparkle 
again, and Peregrine says many times daily, — 
“We have good times now, don’t we ? ” 

A very comforting letter also came from the 
Merchant Adventurers, who, after expressions of 
tender sympathy, added, “ Let it not be grievous 
to you, that you have been the instruments to 
break the ice for others who shall come after you 


whitens eetteii book. 


with less difficulty. The house shall be yours to 
the world’s end.” 

This consoles our men who have struggled 
under such a weight of disadvantages, for the 
bitter reprimand Mr. Weston gave them, that 
still rankles in Captain Standish’s heart. Poor 
Mr. Weston ! Having deserted us after all his 
good promises, being involved in some trouble, 
he left England in disguise, in a fishing-vessel, to 
come to his colony here, and being cast away on 
the shore was robbed by the Indians, so that he 
was compelled to borrow clothing to come here, 
where he first learned that his miserable colonists 
had abandoned all, and shipwrecked in fortune 
he was very glad to borrow articles of our men 
with which to commence trade with the Indians. 

“ Don’t lend him a penny’s worth ! ” said Cap- 
tain Standish, but a better feeling prevailed and 
he is now trading with the savages. 

Our friends were in great dismay at the sight 
of our shabbiness and poverty, and our un- 
dreamed-of destitution : and as at first we had no 
food to give them but lobsters and fish, some of 
them thought our Thanksgiving Day quite super- 
fluous. 

But we, having tasted the great goodness of 
SGI 


faith: WHITE>8 zettfr book. 


the Lord, kept it devoutly, having a sermon in 
the meeting house in the morning, in which 
Elder Brewster reviewed our unnumbered bless- 
ings and reliefs in distresses. I could not go this 
time, but I sat in the open door, and listening to 
their sweet songs of praise, rejoiced that I was 
■ soon to sing that new song which no man know- 
eth ; and joining in the prayer of thanks, looked 
forward with most thankfulness because the time 
was near, when, all my wants supplied from 
Eternal Fulness, prayer should be lost in praise. 

After the services were over, in our different 
houses we gathered round tables supplied with 
various rarities that had been brought on ship, — 
especially milk from the few cows they brought-^ 
and our own luxuries of fish and fruit ; and 
bountiful indeed did they seem to us — well * 
worthy of giving thanks therefor. 

With this accession of numbers, strength and 
comforts, all the future looks bright, and promi- 
ses only happiness. And this I am to leave ! 
Am I sorry ? 

For the first few moments, as Patience threw 
her arms around me, and cried aloud at sight of 
my pale face, and wasted figure, saying she 
could not give me up, I felt almost a desire to 
3G2 


FAITH WHITENS lETTEM BOOK, 


stay until the radiant summer should be over- 
past, and the leaves brighten into their dying 
glories. 

Perhaps I ought to feel sorry to leave my poor 
mother with such a weight of cares, — to which 
I add greatly now, — but Mary Chilton is soon 
to be the wife of John Winslow, who came in 
the Fortune, and she will be a daughter to moth- 
er in my place, as she has been ever since I have 
been ill. 

Sometimes when that dear brother Paul of 
mine comes in with some fresh oysters that he 
lias been at great trouble to get for me, or some 
luscious, dewy fruit ; or stands near when I am 
suffering, eager to do anything that can relieve 
me, great tears of love and sympathy suffusing 
his eyes, I thank God for giving me so good a 
brother, and am willing to live a little longer. 

And as Peregrine runs to me every little while 
to be kissed, and asks mother why I cry, as fall 
the tears I cannot keep back at the pang of giv- 
ing him up, I almost wish to live a great while 
longer. 

And, my Cariad, when Wrestling Brewster 
came in this morning, as I sat weak and faint 
after a violent paroxysm of coughing, and sit- 
363 


FAITH WHITENS IFTTEJt BOOK. 


ting near me repeated God’s old promises, ever 
new, and spoke of the tender love of Jesus, who 
shrank not from life’s bitter cup, but drank it to 
the very dregs and died, that it might have only, 
eternal sweetness for us, I quite wished to live 
long on the earth, that Wrestling might know I 
did indeed love him in return for the love he 
gave me so long ago. 

Indeed all are so kind to me unworthy, — I am 
encircled with such a charmed halo of love, — 
that I should be ungrateful to Him who is Love, 
did I not joy in it. And yet I find it much easi- 
er, and more accordant with my will, to lay my 
hand in the Elder Brother’s, — to go forth and 
mejt the Heavenly Bridegroom. All fear and 
doubt are gone ; He hath prepared for me my 
wedding-garment, and in its spotless purity it is 
waiting for me — even me. 

Faith White’s letter-book is ended. Her im- 
perfect, dying life is, through death, soon to be a 
life indeed with you, my Cariad, with my father 
and mother, with the “ great cloud of witnes- 
ses ; ” — most of all — best of all — with Him 
who first loved me — whom not having seen I 
love. 

His voice calleth to me in the solemn night- 
364 


FAITH WHITENS LETTER BOOK. 


watches, Surely I come quickly : ’’ and my 
heart beats evenly, rapturously as I answer, 
“ Even so, come Lord Jesus.” 

In accordance ,with her permission, this letter- 
book of my glorified friend Faith has been given 
me to read. 

Nothing need be added to the completeness of 
the record of a life hid with Christ in God, 
except that Faith White triumphantly fell asleep 
in Jesus, Monday, September 29, 1623, aged 18 
years and 6 months. 

Wrestling Brewster. 


365 




1 


/ 


i 





\ 


I 


I 




• t 


4 




j 

* * • 

* 


■ v ■ w ’ » 

A 


/ 


« 



« 



» 


1 1 


» 


# 







4 



« 


r 

I 

i 




t 


• ! 

i 

* • 


4 • 



> 





% 




t 


4t4 


I 4 


Vt . _ •• 


\ U 


i t 




■s ' 'T. /«.»T ’7.- 

I • I * 

n' )' 




^ ^ 

a* Al > 

' f » 


V.. 





# 




# 


I 

* i 


% 


4 


1 

» 


I 


4 


X 


N 


4 


9 


f 

» 




I 


t 


I 




i f 


% 


i* 




* 


< 


'# ■ 


I 




' \ 




I 


4 

♦ 


% 


V 



1 


t 


# 



t 


I 


I 








4 


I 


4 

y 


•« 



I 





I 


A 


4- 

I 



» 


J 

( 


< 



1 


* m 

*1 » 


1 ' ’ 

.. c ^ 



t 




• ♦ 




• *' ^ • 


s 


i 


• ' 





t 


f 

i 




I 


.s 

I 



» 


i 


* 






» 


I « • 


^ • • f 


V 


«« 

/’I 





» 


4 


. ! 


I 


J 




i 


/ 


• W 1 


/ 

• I 



I 


t. 


I 


i 


# 


* 


I 


V 


> 

1 ^' 

4 


4 


I 


0 


•, 


4 

i 



• • 


- ♦ 


t 





t 4 ■ 


■ • 

» * 
m 

I _ - 

4 

« » 

V 


J ■ 4 




t 






I. 


« I 








■ii 


« 




>• . * 

►- 


4 » 


% « 



H 


4 

* r 



s 


t 



* 


**!▼ ' 
1 ^ . 





f 


« 


4 

I 


• ^ 




I 


»• 


* ‘^.. / «. 

'\ 

I 





« • 











I 



# 


» 



w 




« 


I 







I 


♦>* 


« 


« 


r 


‘J 




i 


t 




I 


« 


1 


# 


V 


t 



t 


4’ 


•% 




4 

t 



• ^ I 





% 


t- 


I . 


« • 



# 


4 




% 




I 





I 1 


. iW 





4 


« 




I 



I 


9 


V 

I * 

» 

$ 


I 




t 




• • I 






i 


9 




ft 


i 




I . 







? 





m 


. 


! 


. K 




f 


«i . 


i 





t 








» • • 

* 




I 




j - 


• • 



? 



♦ 


k 






✓ 


% 


/ 


•<» 








